AN AMERICAN GIRL
IN LONDON
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AN AMERICAN GIRL
IN LONDON
BY
SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN
AUTHOR OF 'a social DEPAKTURB'
IVITH SO ILLUSTRATIONS BY F H. TOIVNSEMD
^oronfo
WILLIAMSON & CO., 5 KING STREET WEST
1891
2 2 335 1
77ie greater part of An American Girl in LoxnoN
originally appeared in * The Lady's Pictorial' The
Illustrations are now reproduced by kind permission of
Mr Alfred Gibbons
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
' " THAT NICE MISS JAY PENNE " ' . . .
INITIAL • I ' .
' THAT IS now IIK MADE HIS FORTUNE ' .
•l THINK HE WILL IIDN ' .....
•she was teaching school in CHICAGO WHEN POPPA MET HER'
FAOa
Frotitispiece
1
3
4
5
• I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN WE EVER HAD
DONE BEFORE ' .
• WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT '
' WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB '
'•'THOSE DISGUSTING AMERICAN GIRLS " ' ....
1 WHERE SMALL BOYS GO ROUND ON ONE ROLLER SKATE '
' FROM THE OOTSIDE I DIDN'T THINK MUCH OF MRS. PORTHERIS'S HOUSE '
'THEY SAT OP VERY NICELY INDEED' ....
' THE OLD LADY GATHERED HERSELF UP AND LOOKED AT Me' .
' IT WAS MISS PURKISS'S ADDRESS ' .
'SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OF MY TRUNKS ' .
' I WAITED FOR THE LADY OP THE HOUSE A CONSCIOUS HYPOCRITE '
"WE SENT two" '.......
"I CAN DROP YOU ANYWHERE YOU LIKE" ' . . .
ONE OP THE LADIES WAS SITTING BOLT UPRIGHT, WITH A STERN, MAJESTIC
£xE •••••••«
" THEN I LEAVE YOU, MISS WICK," SHE SAID, " TO THIS LADY — AND TO
PROVIDENCE" ' .
8
18
20
24
30
34
37
39
45
46
56
66
69
73
77
VIM
AN AMKRICAiX iilKL IX LONDON
' " MAKE Ifr&f HTOP WAOOLINO," I {'AM,r.I> TO TITK DIUVKll '
•"YOU HAVE THE TOE-IIEOANIN(i THAT MUST UK N.' K " ' .
'HOMEUOIiY HE CALLRD " DEAR-Ull III: Alt-It- l!-T \ " '
'"I WII.I. NOT I.AVE YOU IN Sl'UIl'KS," I HI'.AItK HIM SAY* .
• UI'HET A CHIi,I) WITH A TOl'HKAVV IIONNKT' ....
' " PIjEASE IlOlilt MY I'AllAHOI., Ml!. :M \1' I IM! I'oN', I MAT I MAY (IKT THE EXACT
THUTir Foil MY I'ENNY " '
'"WHAT DO YOU THINK Ol' THE UNItKIKl I!0I;M» ? " '
INITIAL ........
'"HO THIS IS WILLIAM THE CONQUKUOIt ! " ' ....
' LOItl) MAKKEIITON ' .
' DISAHUANOEI) MY KEATUItES I'Olt LirE ' .....
'THE WHOLE I'LACE HPOKE OF ITS CHEAPNESS'
'THAT (lENTIiEMAN IN THE COLNEIl ISA n:Aril;i; OF YOUR OMNUJUS HYSTi:.M
I think' ........
'THE YOUNO WOMAN CIlAWLKh AWAY WITH THE NEOLIOENCE THAT IlECAMI
THE DEAIIEHT PLACE ' .
'A PERSON OF (lltEAT HKIMTV, IN HKIH, IlLACK RLEEVES '
IMIMAL ........
'"YOU WICKED Woman"' ......
•"REMEMHE11, YOUNG LADY, TIIItEE-THlltTYS/tn!/7>"'
INITIAL ' \V ' .
'WE LOOKED AT «HAKEHPEAUE, SUPREME AMONO THE.M '
•"life's a jest, and all THINOS show it; I THOUOHT so once, hND NOW
' OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS GLORY IN IT
INITIAL ' L ' .
DANCINO LIKE A DISJOINTED FOOT-RULE ' . . .
'"REVERSE?" UE bAlD } "I DON'T THINK I EVER HEARD OF IT " '
LIST OF ILLUSTRAl'lOXS
•l OSTKNHiniiY I.OOKKI) AT THK nANIiSCM'K ' ....
•TIIKY WKUK Al.I, DIKFKUKNT FIIO.M ANY AMi:i!H'A\ (lll.STI-KMKN '
•ODl'IK I'UATTli; ' .
'WK DltOVK SIllAKilir OUT Ob' TOWN TO THK l^\ltAl>K-<il;oUNl) '
•with tiii:iu cay i.itti.k i'i:NNt)NS flvino' ....
'WITH AN AIK ok INylllKY ' ......
•it iii:<iAN to hi: mkk tiik i)rAr,o(u:i;s i\ tiik ()M>iahiiiom:i> ui:ai>i\(i
hooks '........
'I was takkn iiv Ktiui'ius.: ■ . .....
miiAi- ' I. ' ........
' lAhY llANIiOltrST ' . . . ,
'Bin; WAS Tin; ;most unintkukstkii imckhon i hayk had tiik i'i.kasuuk oi'
TAI.KINd TO IN EN(1I,ANI>' ......
'Ml!. HANOI, I;Y COIT'IN ' ......
'AI,WAVS, AH II' IN IIIONY, IIY A MAN WHO SOU) (lIXdK.UltKKAD ' .
'AK ACTKKSS ON 1111: LYltlC DltAO (lAVK UH A VKIIY FKANlv AND l'UI.I--KI.AVOUl;M
run KTSM oi'" ouii duiosskh ' .
'XHil.T AH IF I WKItK IN CHUltCH ' .....
WfriAl, 'l' .
'THi: ItKSPKCTAnLK SCOUl' ' ......
'4 (ii.NriNi; iiisiioi' ' .
iimriAi, 't' ........
iNB'ui, 'm' ........
'IB l.ti((Ki:i) AMUSKD AT MY laNOIlANCK ' ....
\
|0 TIDY MTTKK MAIDS '
ks DdlloTHY EXl'LAINKU TH.\T IT WAS A CUltTHEY '
"ytlKiKVliU IIKAHD OK ATTKNIHNO ONE OF HEU MAJESTY'S Dl! \W INO-ltOOMS IN
1a KltoCK V1AI>E IN NEW YOllK I " '
■%
'*-%OU.ND THE CUUTSEY DIFFICCLT AT FIItST '
I'AOK
182
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188
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207
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211
212
211
224
2152
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241)
24: J
24(1
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2(;7
272
275
281
2H9
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
PAGE
* WE WENT DOWN IN THE LIFT, ONE AT A TIME, WITH CHARLOTTE AS TRAIN-
BEARER ' . . . . . . . . .295
INITIAL 'P' 298
* AND CHAOS CAME AGAIN '.,,.,,. 299
* IT WAS MY TURN ' . . . . . . . . 305
* " IF THIS IS MISS WICK, 1 DON'T SEE WHY 1 SHOULDN'T HAVE A KIBS TOO " ' 311
* EVEN THEN HE LOOKED, 1 REMEMBER, A SERIOUS PERSON ' . . . 315
♦the MISSES MAFFERTON, WHO ACCOMPANIED ME, TURNED QUITE PALE ' . 317
'THE ladies' steward' . . . . . , , . 320
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
A]\r an American Girl.
Therefore, perhaps, you
will not be surprised at
anything further I may
have to say for myself.
I have observed, since
1 came to England, that
this statement, made by
a third person in con-
nection with any question of my
own conduct, is always broadly
explanatory. And as my own
conduct will naturally enter
more or less into this volume,
I may as well make it in the
'ginning, to save complications.
It may be necessary at this point to ex])lain further. I
low that in England an unmarried person, of my age, is not
'pected to talk much, especially about herself. This was a
le difficult for me to understand at first, as I have always
v'ed a great deal, and, one might say, been encouraged to do
but I have at length been brought to understand it, and
B
2 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
lately I have spoken witli becoming infrequency, and chiefly
about the Zoo. I find the Zoo to be a subject which is almost
certain to be received with approval; and in animal nature there
is, fortunate!}^, a good deal of variety. I do not intend, how-
ever, in this book, to talk 'about the Zoo, or anything con-
nected with it, but about the general impressions and experiences
I have received in your country ; and one of my reasons for
departing from approved models of discussion for young ladies
and striking out, as it were, into subject-matter on my own
account, is that I think you may find it more or less interesting
I have noticed that you are pleased, over here, to bestow rather
more attention upon the American Girl than upon any other kind
of American that we produce. You have taKen the trouble to
form opinions about her — I have heard quantities of them. Her
behaviour and her bringing-up, her idioms and her 'accent' —
above all her ' accent ' — have made themes for you, and you have
been good enough to discuss them — Mr. James, in your midst,
correcting and modifying your impressions — with a good deal of
animation, for you. I observe that she is almost the only
frivolous subject that ever gets into your new^spapers. I have
become accustomed to meeting her there, usually at the break-
fast-table, dressed in green satin and diamonds. The encounter
had quite a shock of novelty for me at first, but that wore off in
time ; the green satin and diamonds were so invariable.
Being an American girl myself, I do not, naturally, quite see
the reason of this, and it is a matter I feel a delicacy about
inquiring into, on personal grounds. Privately, I should think-
that the number of us that come over here every summer to see
the Tower of London and the National Gallery, and visit Strat-
ford-upon-Avon, to say nothing of those who marry and stay in
England, would have made you familiar with the kind of young
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
i
women we arc long ago ; and to nie it is very curious that you
sliouUl go on talking about us. I can't say that we object very
nnicli, because, Avhile you criticise us c(jnsid('rably as a. class,
you are very polite to us individually, and nobody minds being
criticised as a noun of multitude. i3ut it has occurred to me
that, since so mueli is to be said about the American Girl, it
might be p(>rmissiljle for her to say some of it herself.
I luive learned that in England yon like to know a great
deal about people who are introduced to you — wlio their fathers
and mothers are, their grandfathers and grandmothers, and even
farther back than that.
^!o I will gratify you
at once on this point,
so far as I am able. ]\l v
fatlier is y\.\\ Joshua
r. Wick, of Chicago,
[11. — you may have
■en his nanic^ in con-
lection with the bak-
ing-powder interest in
that citv. That is how
le made his fortune — ■
n baking-powder ; as he has often said, it is to baking-powder
piat we owe everything. He began by putting it up in small
[uantities, but it is an article that is so much used in the
nited StatvS, and ours Avas such a very good kind, that the
ienuuid for it increased like anything; and though we have not
pecome so rich as a great many people in America, it is years
nice poppa gave Ids joersonal superintendence to the business.
^Ju will excuse my spelling it ' poppa'; I Inive called him that
11 my life, and ' papa ' doesn't S':;em to mean anything to me.
B 2
' THAT IS now HE MADE IIIS FOIiTUXE '
4 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
Lately he has devoted himself to politics ; he is in Congress now,
and at the next election momma particularly wishes liim to run
for senator. There is a great deal of compliance about poppa, j
and I think he will run. I
Momma was a Miss Wastgaggle, of Boston, and she was
' I TIIIXK UK WILL ruN '
teaching school in Chicago when poppa met Iier. Her grand-
father, who educated her, was a manufacturer of glass eyes.
There are Wastgaggles in Boston now, but they spell the name
with one ' g,' and lately they have been wanting momma to write
hers ' Mrs. AVastwasfle-'Wick ' ; but momma savs that since she
never liked the name well enough to give it to any of her
children, she is certainly not going to take it again herself.
These Wastgngles speak of our great-grandfather as a well-
known oculist, and I suppose, in a sense, he was one.
pi-
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'she was teaching SCHOOIj in CHICAGO WHEN POPPA MET HER'
6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
My fiitlicr's father lived in England, and was also a manu-
facturer, poppa says, always adding, ' in a plain w.'iy ; ' so I sup-
pose whatever he made ho made himself. It may have been
boots, or und)rellas, or pastry — poppa never states; though I
should be disposed to think, from liis taking up the baking-
powder idea, that it was pastry.
I am sorry that I am not able to give you fuller satisfaction
about my antecedents. I know that I must have had more than
I have mentioned, but my efforts to discover them — and I have
made efforts since I decided to introduce myself to you — have
been entirely futile. I am inclined to think that they were not
people who achieved any great distinction in life ; but I have
never held anvtliinj]f a<^ainst them on that account, for I have no
reason to believe that they would not have been distinguished if
they could. I cannot think that it has ever been in the nature
of the AVicks, or the Wastgnggles eitlier, to let the oppor-
tunity for distinction pass through ai y criiiinal negligence on
their part. I am perfectly willing to evcuse them on this
ground, therefore ; and if I, who am most intimately concerned
in the matter, can afford to do this, perhaps it is not unreason-
able to expect it of you.
In connections we do better. A grand-aunt of some early
Wastgaggles was burned as a witch in Salem, Mass. — a thing
very few families can point back to, even in England, I should
think ; and a second cousin of momma's was the first wife of one
of our Presidents. He was a Democratic President, though, and
as poppa always votes the Republican ticket, we don't think much
of that. Besides, as we are careful to point out whenever we
mention the subject, she was in the cemetery years before he was
in the White House. And there is Mrs. Portheris, of Half-Moon
Street, Hyde Park, who is poppa's aunt by her first marriage.
i
AN AME'UCAN GIRL IN LONDON 7
"We were all coming at first, poppa, and momma, ant"! I — tlio
others are still in scliool — and it had appeared amon^f the ' f^ify
]Vrsonals' of the 'Chicago Tribune' that 'Colonel and ^Mrs.
Joshua P. "Wick, accompanied by I\[iss ^Faniie Wick " — I forirot
to say that poppa was in the Civil War — ' would have a look at
monarchical institutions this summer.' Our newspapers do get
hold of things so. But just a week before we were to sail
something arose — I think it was a political complication — to pre-
vent poppa's going, and inomma is far too much of an invalid to
undertake such a journey without him. I must say that both
my parents are devoted to me, and when I said I thought I'd
prefer going alone to giving up the trip, neither of them opposed
it. Momma said she thought I ought to have the experience,
because, though I'd been a good deal in society in Chicago, she
didn't consider that that in itself was enough. Poppa said that
the journey was really nothing nowadays, and he could easily
gt't me a letter of introduction to the captain. Besides, in a
shipful of two or three hundred there would be sure to be some
pleasant people I could get acquainted with on the voyage.
.Mrs. Von Stuvdidyl, who lives next door to us, and has been to
I'lurope several times, suggested that I should take a maid, and
monnna rather liked the idea, but I persuaded herout of it. I
couldn't possibly have undertaken the care of a maid.
And then we all thought of ]\Irs. Portheris.
None of us had ever seen her, and there had been very little
correspondence ; in fact, we had not had a letter from her since
several years ago, when she wrote a long one to pojipa, some-
' thing about some depressed California mining stock, I believe,
which she thought poppa, as her nephew and an American,
ought to take oflf her hands before it fell any lower. And I
[remember that poppa obliged her: whether as an American or
8
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
as lier nopliew I don't know. After that she sent us every year
a Christmas card, with an angel or a bunch of forget-me-nots on
it, inscribed, ' To my nephew and niece, Josliua Peter and Mary
Wick, and all tlieir dear ones.' Her latest offering was lying in
the card-basket on the table then, and I am afraid we looked at
it with more interest than we had ever done before. The ' dear
• I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN
WE EVER HAD DONE BEFORE
, )
ones ' read so sympathetically that momma said she knew we could
depend upon Mrs. Portheris to take me round and make me I
enjoy myself, and she wanted to cable that I was coming. But I
poppa said No, his aunt must be getting up in years now, and
an elderly English lady might easily be frightened into apoplexy
by a cablegram. It was a pity there was no time to write, but
I must just go and see her immediately, and say that I was the
daughter of Joshua P. AVick, of Chicago, and she would be I ^
certain to make me feel at home at once. But, as I said, none |
of us knew Mrs. Portheris,
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
II
I AM not mncli acquainted in New York, so I had only poppa
and Mr. Winterliazel to seo nio off. Mr. Winterhazel lives
there, and does business in Wall Street, where he operates very
successfully, I've been told, for such a young man. We Iiad
been the greatest friends and regular correspondents for three
or four years — our tastes in literature and art were almost
exactly the same, and it was a nuitual pleasure to keep it up —
but poppa had never met him before. They were very happy to
make each other's acquaintance, though, and became quite inti-
. mate at once ; they had heard so much about each other, they
aid. We had allowed two days before the steamer sailed, so
I that I could make some purchases — New York styles are so dif-
ferent from Chicago ones ; and, as poppa said afterwards, it was
very fortunate that Mr. Winterhazel was there. Otherwise, I
should have been obliged to go round to the stores alone ; for
poppa himself was so busy seeing people about political matters
that he hadn't the thirtieth part of a second for me, except at
meal- times, and then there was almost always somebody there.
London is nothina: to New York for confusion and hurrv, and
until you get accustomed to it the Elevated is apt to be very
trying to your nerves. But Mr. Winterhazel was extremely
kind, and gave up his whole time to me ; and as he knew all
the best stores, this put me under the greatest obligation to him.
After dinner the first evening he took me to hear a gentleman
ro AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
who wns h'ctiiriii^ on the London of Charles ])ickens, with a
Bteroopticon, flunking tluit, as 1 was going to London, it would pro-
bably be of interest to me — and it was. I anticipated your city
more than ever afterwards. Poppa was as disappointed as could
be that he wasn't able to go with us to the lecture ; but he said
tliat politics were politics, and I suppose they are.
Next day I sailed from North River Docks, Tier No. 2, a
fresh wind blowinur all the harbour into short blue waves, with
the sun on them, and poppa and ]Mr. Winterhazel taking oft'
their hats and waving their handkerchiefs as long as I could see
them. I suppose I started for CJreat ]h'itain v.ith about as many
comforts as most people have — poppa and ls\v. Winterhazel had
almost filled my state-room with flowers, and I found four pounds
of caramels under the lower berth — but I confess, as we steamed
out past Staten Island, and I saw the statue of Liberty getting
smaller and smaller, and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean getting
bigger and bigger, I felt very much by nn'self indeed, and
began to depend a good deal upon ]\rrs. Porthcris.
As to the caramels, in the next three hours I gave the whole
of them to the first stewardess, who was kind enough to oblige
me with a lemon.
Before leaving home I had promised everybody that I would
keep a diary, and most of the time I did ; but I find nothing at
all of interest in it about the first three days of the voyage to
London. The reason was that I had no opportunity whatever of
making observations. But on the morning of the fourth day I was
obliged to go on deck. The stewardess said she couldn't put up
with it any longer, and I would never recover if I didn't; and I was
very glad afterwards that I gave in. She was a real kind-hearted
stewardess, I may say, though her manner was a little peremptory.
I didn't find as much sociability on deck as I expected. I
i
A.W AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON II
should liiivc thou^'lit everybody would have been lucre or less ac-
qnnintod by that time, but, with the exception of a few j^entlemen,
people were standin*,' or sittiug muud in the same little knots
they came on board in. And yet it was very smooth. 1 was
so perfectly deliglited to be well jigain tluit I frit I must talk to
souiebody, so I spoke to one of a party of ladies from ]^)ston
who 1 thought luight know the "NVastgiigles there. I was very
])olite, and she did not seem at all sea-sick, l)ut I found it
(Hllicult to open np a conversation with her. I knew that the
JJostonians thouglit a good deal of themselves — all the Wast-
gagles do — and her manner somehow made mo think of a story
1 once heard of a Massachusetts milestone, marked '1 m. from
J5()ston,' which somebody thought was a wayside tablet with the
simple pathetic epitaph, ' I'm from Boston,' on it; and just to
enliven her I told her the story. ' Indeed ! ' she said. ' Wi 11,
we arc from Boston.'
I didn't quite know what to do after that, for the only other
lady near me Was English, I knew by her boots. Beside the
boots she had grey hair and pink cheeks, and rather sharp grey
(ves, and a large old-fashioned muff, and a red cloud. Only an
l']nglishwoman would be wearing a muff and a cloud like that in
l)ublic — nobody else w^ould dare to do it. She was rather portly,
and she sat very firmly and comfortably in her chair with her
feet crossed, done up in a big Scotch rug, and being an English-
woman I knew that she would not expect anybody to speak to
her who had not been introduced. She would probably, I
thought, give me a haughty stare, as they do in novels, and say,
with cold repression, ' You have the advantage of me, miss ! ' —
and then what would my feelings be ? So I made no more ad-
vances to anybody, but walked off my high spirits on the hurri-
cane-deck, thinking about the exclusiveness of those Bostonians,
12 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
and wondering whether, as a nation, we could be catching it
from England.
You may imagine my feelings — or rather, as you are probably
English, you can't — when the head steward gave me my place
at the dinner-table immediately opposite the Bostonians, and
between this lady and an unknown gentleman. ' I shall not
make a single travelling acquaintance ! ' I said to myself as I sat
down — and I must say I was disappointed. I began to realise
how greatly we had all unconsciously depended upon my forming
nice travelling acquaintances, as people always do in books, to
make the trip pleasant, and I thought that in considering an-
other voyage I should divorce myself from that idea beforehand.
However, I said nothing, of course, and found a certain amount
of comfort in my soup.
I remember the courses of that dinner very well, and if they
were calculated to make interesting literary matter I could write
them out. The Bostonians ostentatiously occupied themselves
with one another. One of them took up a position several miles
behind her spectacles, looked at me through them, and then said
something to her neighljour about 'Daisy Miller,' which the
neighbour agreed to. I know what they meant now. The
gentleman, when he was not attending Lo his dinner, stared at
the salt-cellar most of the time, in a blank, abstracted way ; and
the English lady, who looked much nicer unshelled than she did
on deck, kept her head carefully turned in the other direction,
and made occasional remarks to an elderly person next her who
was very deaf. If I had not been hungry, I don't know how I
should have felt. But I maintained an absolute silence and ato
my dinner.
Gradually — perhaps because the elderly person was so
extremely deaf, and my own behaviour comparatively unaggrcs-
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 13
sive — the lady of England began to assume a less uncomfortable
position. A certain repellent air went out of her right shoulder.
Presently she sat quite parallel with the table. By the advent
of the pudding — it was cabinet pudding — I had become con-
scious that she had looked at me casually three times. When
the Gorgonzola appeared I refused it. In America ladies cat
very little Gorgonzola.
' Don't you liliQ cheese ? ' she stdd, suddenly, a little as if I
had offended her. I was so startled that I equivocated some-
what.
' No'm, not to day, I think — thank you ! ' I said. The fact
is, I never touch it.
' Oh ! ' she responded. ' But then, this is your first ap-
])(>iirance, I suppose ? In that case, you wouldn't like it.' And
1 felt forgiven.
She said nothing more until dessert, and then she startled
nio again. ' Have you been bad ? ' she inquired.
I didn't know quite what to sny, it seemed such an extra-
ordinary question, but it flashed upon me that perhaj^s the lady
^ was some kind of missionary, in which case it was my duty to
be respectful. So I said that 1 hoped not — that at least I
hadn't been told so since I was a very little girl. ' But then,'
I said, ' The Episcopalian Prayer-book says we're all miserable
sinners, doesn't it ? ' The lady looked at me in astonishment.
' What has the Prayer-book to do with your being ill ? '
she exclaimed. ' Oh, I see ! ' and she laughed very heartily.
' You thought I meant naughty ! Cross-questions and crooked
answers ! Mr. Mafferton, you will appreciate this ! ' j\rr.
Mafferton was the gentleman whom I have mentioned in con-
[nection with the salt-cellars ; and my other neighbour seemed
jto know him, which, as they both came from England, did not
14 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
surprise me then, altliough now I should be inclined to consider
that the most likely reason of all why they shouldn't be ac-
quainted. I didn't see anything so very humorous in it, but
the lady explained our misunderstanding to Mr. Maffeilon as if
it were the greatest joke imaginable, and she had made it
herself. * Really,' she said, ' it's good enough for " Punch ! '"
I was unfamiliar with that paper then, and couldn't say ; but
now I think it was myself.
Mr. Mafferton coloured dreadfully — I omitted to say that he
was a youngish gentleman — and listened with a sort of strained
smile, which debouched into a hesitating and uncomfortable
remark about ' curious differences in idioms.' I thought ho
intended it to be polite, and he said it in the most agreeable
man's voice I had ever heard ; but I could not imagine what
there was to flurry liim so, and I felt quite sorry for him. And
he had hardly time to get safely back to the salt-cellar before we
all got up.
Next morning at breakfast I got on beautifully with the
English lady, who hardly talked to the elderly deaf person at all,
but was kind enough to be very much interested in what I
expected to see in London. ' Your friends will have their
hands full,' she remarked, with a sort of kind acerbity, ' if
they undertake to show you all that ! ' I thought of poor old
Mrs. Portheris, who was probably a martyr to rheumatism and
neuralgia, with some compunction. * Oh ! ' I said, ' I shouldn't
think of asking them to ; I'll read it all up, and then I can go
round beautifully by myself! '
* By yourself!^ she exclaimed. 'You! This is an inde-
pendent American young lady — the very person I went espe-
cially to the United States to see, and spent a whole season in
New York, going everywhere, without coming across a single
j AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 15
specimen ! You must excuse my staring at you. But you'll
have to get over tliat idea. Your friends will never in the world
allow it — I suppose you Imca friends ? '
' No,' I said ; ' only a relatiou.'
The lady laughed. ' Do you intend that for a joke ? ' she
askt'd. ' Well, they do mean different things sometimes. But
we'll see what the relation will liave to say to it.'
]\rr. ]\rafferton occasionally removed his eyes from the salt-
cellar during this meal, and even ventured a remark or two.
The remarks were not striking in any way — there was no food
fl )r thought in them whatever ; yet they were very agreeable.
^Vllether it was Mr. Mafferton's voice, or his manner, or his
; almost apologetic way of speaking, as if ho knew that he was
\ not properly acquainted, and ought not to do it, I don't know,
I hut I liked hearing him make them. It was not, however,
I until later in the day, when I was sitting on deck talking with
\ the lady from England about New York, where she didn't seem
to like anything but the air and the melons, that I felt the least
bit acquainted with ^\i\ Mafferton. I had found out her name,
by the way. She asked me mine, and when I told her she said :
' But you're old enough now to have a Christian name — weren't
you christened JNIary ? ' She went on to say that she believed
in the good old-fashioned names, like Nancy and Betsy, that
couldn't be babified — and I am not sure whether she told me, or
it was by intuition, that I learned that hers was Hephzibah. It
seems to me noV that it never could have been anything else.
But I am quite certain she added that her husband was Hector
Torquilin, and that he had been dead fifteen years. 'A dis-
tinguished man in his time, my dear, as you would know if you
had bean brought up in an English schoolroom.' And just then,
while I was wondering what would be the most appropriate thing
1 6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
to say to a lady wlio told you that her husband liad been dead <
fifteen years, and was a distinguished man in his time, and ]
wishing that I had been broaght up in an English schoolroom, <
so that I could be polite about him, Mr. Mafferton came up. J
He had one of Mr. AV. D. Ho wells' novels in his hand, and at 1
once we glided into the subject of American literature. I re- ^
member I was surprised to find an Englishman so good-natured <
in his admiration of some of our authors, and so willing to con- '
cede an American standard which might be a high one, and yet
have nothing to do with Dickens, and so appreciative generally
of the conditions which have brought about our ways of thinking
and writing. Wo had a most delightful conversation — I had ^
no idea there was so much in Mr. Mafferton — and Mrs. Torquiliu
only interrupted once. That was to ask us if either of us had
ever read the works of Fenimore Cooper, who was about the \
only author America had ever produced. Neither of us had, and I J
said I thought there were some others. ' Well,' she said, ' he <
is the only one we ever hear of in England.' But I don't think
Mrs. Torquilin was quite correct in this statement, because since <
I have been in England I have met three or four people, beside
Mr. Mafferton, who knew, or at least had heard of, several (
American writers. Then ]\Irs. Torquilin went to sleep, and
when she woke up it was five o'clock, and her maid was just
arriving with her tea. Mr. Mafferton asked me if he might get
me some, but I said, No, thanks ; I thought I would take a
brisk walk instead, if Mrs. Torquilin would excuse me.
' Certainly,' she said ; ' go and take some exercise, both of
you. It's much better for young people than tea-drinking.
And see here, my dear ! I thought you were very sensible not
to dress for dinner last night, like those silly young fools oppo-
site. Silly young fools I call them. Now, take my advice, and
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 17
flon't let them persuade you to do it. Au Atlantic steamer is
^0 place for bare arms. Now run away, and have your walk,
and Mr. Mafferton will see that you're not blown overboard.'
Mr. Mafferton hesitated a moment. ' Are you quite sure,
0 said, ' that you wouldn't prefer the tea ? '
' Oh yes, sir ! ' I said; 'we always have tea at half-past six
1 home, and I don't care about it so early as tliis. I'd much
[atlier walk. But don't trouble to come with me if i\o\i would
like some tea.'
' I'll come,' he said, ' if you won't call me " sir." ' Here lie
•owned a little and coloured. ' It makes one feel seventv vou
now. May I ask why you do it ? '
I explained that in Chicago it was considered polite to say
ina'am ' or ' sir ' to a lady or gentleman of any age with whom
oil did not happen to be very well acquainted, and I had heard
i all my life ; still, if he objected to it, I would not use it in his
a?:e.
He said he thought he did object to it— from a lady ; it had
tlier associations in his ears.
80 I stopped calling Mr. Mafferton 'sir'; and since then,
Kccpt to very old gentlemen, I have got out of the way of using
le expression. I asked him if there was anything else that
ruck him as odd in my conversation kindly to tell me, as of
)urse I did not wish to be an unnecessary shock to my relation
I Half-Moon Street. He did not say he w^ould, but we seemed
» get on together even more agreeably after that.
Mr. Mafferton appeared to know nobody on board but Mrs.
orquilin ; and I made acquaintance with hardly anybody else,
> that we naturally saw a good deal of each other, usually in
afternoons, walking up and down the deck. He lent me all
is books, and I lent him all mine, and we exchanged opinions on
c
i8
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
a great variety of subjects. When we argued, he was always
very polite and considerate ; but I noticed one curious thing
about him — I never could bring him round to my point of view.
He did not seem to see the necessity of coming, although I often
„ _ ^^^
*WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT'
went round to his. This was a new experience to me in arguinj:^
with a gentleman. And he always talked very impersonally.
At first this struck me as a little cold and uninterested, but
afterwards I liked it, It was like drinking a very nice kind of
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 19
pure cold water — after the different Ihivours of personality I had
always been accustomed to. Mr. jNIafferton only made one
exception to this rule that I remember, and that was the after-
noon before we landed. Then he told me particularly about his
father and mother, and their tastes and occupations, also the
names and ages of his brothers and sisters, and their tastes and
occupations, and where he lived. But I cannot say I found him
as interesting that afternoon as usual.
I need not describe the bustle and confusion of landinnf at
Liverpool Docks in the middle of a wet April afternoon. ]\rrs.
Torquilin had told me at breakfast not on any account to let
my relations take me away before she had given me her address ;
Init when the time came I guess — if you will allow me — she
nuist have forgotten, because the last time I saw her she was
standing under a very big umbrella, which the maid held over
lier, a good deal excited, and giving a great many orders about
her luggage to a nervous-looking man in livery.
I easily identified mine, and got off by train for London
without any trouble to speak of. AVe arrived rather late, though,
^and it was still pouring.
' What has become of your people ? ' asked somebody at my
elbow. I turned and saw Mr. Mafferton, who must have come
flown by the same train.
' I didn't expect my relation to meet me,' I said ; 'she doesn't
expect me ! '
' Oh ! ' said Mr. Mafferton ; ' you did not write to her before
f ou sailed ? '
' No,' I said. ' There wasn't time.'
' Upon ray word! ' said Mr. Mafferton. Then, as I suppose
t looked rather surprised, he added, hastily : ' I only mean that
t seems so — so uncommonly extraordinary, you know ! But I
c 2
30
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
would advise you, in that case, to give tlie bulk of your luggage
into the hands of the forwarding agents, '.vith iustructious to send
it early to-morrow to your friend's
address. It is all you can do to-
night,' said Mr. ^Slatterton, ' really.
Of course, you will go there imme-
diately yourself.'
'No,' I responded, firmly; 'I
think not, ]\[r. ]\Iatrerton. My rela-
tion is very elderly, and probably in
bad health. For all 1 know, she may
have gone to bed. I must not dis-
' WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB '
turb her so late. All the people I have ever known have stayed
at the " Metropole " in London. I will go to the Metropolefor
to-night, and have my things sent there. To-morrow I will go
AN AMERICAN GlRL IN LONDON 21
untl see my relation, and if she asks me to visit her I can easily
tclt'phono up for them. Thank you very much.'
Mr. Mafferton looked as sober as possible, if not a little
nnnoyed. Then ho went and got the agent's young man, and
asked me to point out my things to him, which I did, and got
receipts. Then he told a porter to call a cab, and put my smaller
valii^es into it. ' I will put you in,' he said, and he gave me his
ana and his umbrella, through the wettest rain I have ever
experienced, to the hansom. I thanked him again very cordially,
and before he said good-bye ho very kindly gave me his card
and address, and begged me to let him know if there was any-
tliing he could do for me.
Then I rattled away through the blurred lights of your inter-
minable twisted streets to the ^letropole, foncying I saw West-
minster Abbey or 8fc. Paul's through the rain at every turn.
When we stopped at last before the hotel, another hansom
beliind us stopped too, and though I am sure he didn't intend
me to, I saw quite plainly through the glass — Mr. MafTerton.
It A\ as extremely kind of him to wish to be of assistance to a
lady alone, especially in such weather, and I could easily under-
stand his desire to see me to my hotel ; but what puzzled me
wa*^, why he should have taken another cab !
And all nio'ht long I dreamed of !Mrs. Portheris.
23 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
III
I ONCE visited the Wastgagles iu Boston with momma. It was
a visit of condoUuico, just after the demise of a grandmother
of tlieirs. I was going to say, that never since that occasion had
I experienced anytliing Hke the solemnity of my breakfast at
the Mutropole the morning after I arrived. As a sad-faced
waiter with mutton-cliop whiskers marshalled me across the room
to an empty little white-and-silvery table beside one of the big
windows, I felt, for the first time in my life, that I was being
made imposing, and I objected to the feeling. The place itself
did not impress me particularly — in America we are accustomed
to gorgeousness in our hotels, and the mirrors and the gilding
of the Metropole rather made me feel at home than otherwise ;
but it was the demeanour of everything that weighed upon me.
My very chair lived up to its own standard of decorum ; and
the table seemed laid upon a pattern of propriety that it would
never willingly depart from. There was an all-pervading sense
of order in the air. I couldn't make out exactly where it came
from, but it was there, and it was fearful. The waiters spoke
to each other in low tones, as if something of deep and serious
importance were going on ; and when I told one of them what
I should like from the bill-of-fare, he bent down his ear and
received my order as if it had been confidential State business I
was asking him to undertake. When he came back, carrying
the tray in front of him, it was almost processional. And in the
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 23
interval, when I turned round to look out of tlie window, and
saw another of those respectfully-subdued waiters standin<jf
behind my chair, quite motionless, I jumped. A great many
people were getting their breakfasts, not with the cheerful ahic-
rity which we use at home, but rather with a portentous deli-
beration and concentration which did not admit of much talking.
3 Tlie silence was broken only in one corner, where a group of
Americans seemed to have got accustomed to the atmosphere.
When the English breakfasters raised their eyes from their
papers and eggs-and-toast, they regarded my talkative com-
patriots with a look which must have fairly chilled their tea. I
hope nobody has ever looked at me like that in England The
Americans were from Virginia, as I could tell by their accent,
and their ' c'y'arn't ' and ' sis'r ' and ' honey ' and ' heap better.'
But I have no doubt the English people, in their usual loftily com-
prehensive fashion, set the strangers down as ' Yankees,' and no
uuiount of explanation could have taught them that the ' Yankees
are the New Englanders, and that the name would once have been
taken as an insult by a Southerner. But the Virginians were
blissfully indifferent to the British estimate of themselves, and they
talked as freely of their shopping and sight-seeing as they would
in Delmonico's or the Brunswick. To be perfectly honest, a
conviction came to me then that sometimes we don't care enough.
But, for my part, I liked listening to that Virginian corner.
I'm afraid it was rather a late breakfast, and the lobby
was full of people strolling in and out when I went through on
my way to my room. I stood for a moment at the dining-room
door looking at the lobby — I had heard so many Chicago people
describe it — and I noticed in the seats that run around it,
against the wall, two young women. They were leaning back
nonchalantly, watching the comers and the got . Both of
24
AN AMEIUCAN GIRT. IX LONDOX
tliem had tlit'ir knoes crossed, and one had her haiid^ in licr
jacket pockets. A man in the seat next tlioni, who niiglit or
might not have belonged to tliem, was smoking a large cigar.
Two English ladies came out from breakfast behind nie, stocd
waiting for somebody, and said one ^o the other : ' Look {.t
those disgusting American girls ! ' lUit I had seen the young
women's boots. Just to be satisfied, 1 walketl up to one of them.
' " THOSE DISGUSTING AMERICAN GIRLS " '
and asked her if she could kindly tell me when I ought to post
letters for New York. ^>^
' The American malyel goes oufc^W^nesdays an' Satuhdays,
I fancy,' the young woman replied, * but I'm not suah ; it would
be saifah to ask the clahk ! '
She spoke quite distinctly, so that the English ladies must
have heard her, and I am afraid they saw in my glance as I
went upstairs that I had intended to correct their mistake.
AN AMI:RICAN girl L\ LONDON 25
I started to soo ^Ira. J'orthL'ri.s at eleven o'clock oil tlio
morning of the 9th of April — a lovely day, a day which aiijj^ured
hrjf^'htly and hopefully. I waited carefully till eleven, thinking
by that time my relation would have had her breakfast in bed
and been dressed, and perhaps havc^ been helped downstairs to
her own particular sunny window, where I thought I might see
her faded, placid, sweet old face looking up from her knitling
and out into the busy street. Words have such an inspiring
effect upon the imagination. All this had emanated from tho
' dear ones,' and I felt confident and pleased and happy before-
hand to bo a dear one. I wore one of my plainest walking-
dresses — I love simplicity in dress — so as to mitigate the shock
to my relation as far as I could ; but it was a New York one,
and it gave me a great deal of moral support. It maybe weak-
minded in me, but I simply couldn't have gone to see my rela-
tion in a hat and gloves that didn't match. Clothes and courage
have so much to do with each other.
The porter said that I had better take 'a 'ansom,' or if I
walked to Charing Cross I could get ' a 'Ammersmith 'bus '
which would take me to Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly. I asked
him if there were any street-cars running that way. ' D'ye
mean growlers, miss ? ' lie said. ' I can get ye a growler in
'arf a minute.' But I didn't know what he meant, and I didn't
like the sound of it. A * growler ' was probably not at all a
> proper thing for a young lady to ride in ; and I was determined
I to be considerate of the feelings of my relation. I saw ladies
|in hansoms, but I had never been in one at home, and they
-|looked very tiltuppy. Also, they went altogether too fast, and
las it was a slippery day the horses attached to them sat down
, and rested a great deal oftener than I thought I should like.
|A.nd when the animals were not poor old creatures that wefe
26 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
obliged to sit down in this precipitate way, tliey danced and
pranced in a manner which did not inspire me with confidence.
In America our cab-horses know themselves to be cab-horses, and
behave accordingly — they have none of the national theories
about equality whatever ; but the London quadrupeds might be
the greatest Democrats going from the airs they put on. And
I saw no street-cars anywhere. So I decided upon the 'Ammer-
smith 'bus, and the porter pointed out the direction of Charing
Cross.
It seems to me now that I was what you would call ' uncom-
monly' stupid about it, but I hadn't gone very far before I
realised that I did not quite know what Charing Cross was. I
had come, you see, from a city where the streets are mostly
numbered, and run pretty much in rows. The more I thought
about it, the less it seemed to mean anything. So I asked a
large policeman — the largest and straightest policeman, with
the reddest face I had ever seen : Mr. Officer,' I said, knowing
your fondness for titles in this country, ' what is Charing
Cross ? '
He smiled very kindly. ' Wy, miss,' he said, ' there's Char-
ing Cross Station, and tl ert-'s Charing Cross 'Otel, and there's
Charing Cross. Wot were you wanting pertickeler ? '
' Charing Cross ! ' said I.
' There it lies, in front of you ! ' the policeman said, waving
his arm so as to take in the whole of Trafalgar Square. * It
ain't possible for you to miss it. Miss. And as three other
people were waiting to ask him something else, I thought
I ought not to occupy his attention any further. I kept
straight on, in and out among the crowd, comparing it in my
mind with a New York or Chicago crowd. I found a great
many more kinds of people in it than there would be at home.
AN AMERICAN GIP.L IN LONDON 27
You are remarkably different in this country. We are a good
deal the same. I was not at all prepared then to make a com-
parison of averages, but I noticed that life seemed to mean some-
thing more serious for most of the people I met than it does with
us. Hardly anybody was laughing, and very few people were
making unseemly haste about their business. There was no
eagerness and no enthusiasm. Neither was there any hustling.
In a crowd like that in Chicago everybody would have hustled,
and nobody would have minded it.
' Where is Charing Cross ? ' I asked one of the flower-
women sitting by the big iron entrances to the station. ^ llitjht
'ere, miss, ware you be a-standin' ! Buy a flower, miss ? Only
a penny ! an' lovely they are ! Do buy one, laidy ! ' It was
dreadfully pathetic, the way she said it, and she had frightful
holes in her shawl, and no hat or bonnet on. I had never seen
a woman selling things out of doors with nothing on her head
before, and it hurt me somehow. But I couldn't possibly have
bought her flowers — they were too much like her. Ho I gave her
a sixpence, and asked her where I could find an 'Ammersmith
'bus. She thanked me so volubly that I couldn't possibly under-
stand her, but I made out that if I stayed where I was an
'Annnersmith 'bus would presently arrive. She went on asking
me to buy flowers though, so I walked a little farther off". I
waited a long time, and not a single 'bus appeared with 'Ammer-
smith on it. Finally, I asked another policeman. ' There ! ' he
said, as one of the great lumbering concerns rolled up — ' that's
one of 'em now ! You'll get it ! ' I didn't like to dispute with
an officer of the law, but I had seen plenty of that particular
red variety of 'bus go past, and to be quite certain I said : ' But
isn't that a Hammersmith one ? ' The policeman looked quite
cross. * Well, isn't that what you're a-askin' for ? 'Ammersmith
a8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
an' 'Ammersmith — it's all the saime, depenclin' on 'ow you per-
nounces it. Some people calls it 'Ammersmith, an' some people
calls it 'Ammersmith ! ' and he turned a broad and indignant
back upon me. I flew for the 'bus, and the conductor, in a
friendly way, helped me on by my elbow.
I did not think, before, that anything could wobble like an
Atlantic steamer, but I experienced nothing more trying coming
over than that Hammersmith 'bus. And there were no straps
from the roof to hold on by — nothing but a very high and in-
convenient handrail ; and the vehicle seemed quite full of stout
old gentlemen with white whiskers, who looked deeply annoyed
when I upset their umbrellas and unintentionally plunged upon
their feet. ' More room houtside, miss ! ' the conductor said —
which I considered impertinent, thinking that he meant in the
road. ' Is there any room on top ? ' I asked him, because I had
walked on so many of the old gentlemen's feet that I felt uncom-
fortable about it. ' Yes, miss ; that's wot I'm a-sayin' — lots o'
room lioutsiCiQ ! ' So I took advantage of a lame man's getting
off to mount the spiral staircase at the back of the 'bus and
take a seat on top. It is a pity, isn't it, that Noah didn't think
of an outside spiral staircase like that to Ids ark. He might
have accommodated so many more of the animals, providing
them, of course, with oilskin covers to keep off the wet, as you
do. But even coming from a bran new and irreverent country,
where nobody thinks of consulting the Old Testament for models
of public conveyances, anybody can see that in many respects
you have improved immensely upon Noah.
It was lovely up there — exactly like coming on deck after
being in a stuffy little cabin in the steamer — a good deal of
motion, but lots of fresh air. I was a little nervous at first, but
as nobody fell off the tops of any of the other 'buses, I concluded
I AN AMERICAN CTRL IN LONDON 29
that it was not a thing you were expected to do, and presently
forgot all about it looking at the people swarming below me.
My position made me feel immeasurably superior — at such a
swinging height above them all — and I found myself speculating
jibout them and criticising them, as I never should have done
walking. I had never ridden on the top of anything before ; it
gave me an entirely new revelation of my fellow-creatures — if
your monarchical feelings will allow that expression from a
Republican. I must say I liked it — looking down upon people
i who were travelling in the same direction as I was, only on a
level below. I began to understand the agreeableness of class
distinctions, and I wondered whether the arrangement of seats
on the tops of the 'buses was not, probably, a material result of
aristocratic prejudices.
Oh, I liked it through and through, that first ride on a
London 'bus ! To know just how I liked it, and why, and how
and why we all like it from the other side of the Atlantic, you
must be born and brought up, as most of us have been, in a
city twenty-five or fifty years old, where the houses are all made
of clean white or red brick, with clean green lawns and geranium
beds and painted iron fences ; where rows of nice new maple-
trees are planted in the clean-s- /ed boulevards, and fresh-
planed wooden sidewalks run straight for a mile or two at a
time, and all the city blocks stand in their proper right angles —
which are among our advantages, I have no doubt; but our
advantages have a way of making your disadvantages more in-
teresting. Having been monarchic cs all your lives, however,
: you can't possibly understand what it is to have been brought
up in fresh paint. I ought not to expect it of you. If you
'■ could, though, I should find it easier to tell you, according to
my experience, why we are all bo devoted to London.
30
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
There was the smell, to begin with. I write ' there Wcis/
because I regret to say that during the past few months I have
become accustomed to it, and for me that smell is done up in
a past tense for ever ; so that I can quite understand a Londoner
not believing in it. The Hammersmith 'bus
was in the Strand when I first became conscious
of it, and I noticed afterwards that it was
always more pro-
nounced down there,
in the heart of the
City, than in Ken-
sington, for in-
stance. It was no
special odour or
collection of odours
that could be dis-
tinguished— it was
rather an abstract
smell — and yet it
gave a kind of
solidity and nutri-
ment to the air, and
made you feel as if
your lungs digested
it. There was com-
fort and support
and satisfaction in
that smell, and I often vainly try to smell it again.
We find the irregularity of London so gratifying, too. The
way the streets turn and twist and jostle each other, and lead
up into nothing, and turn around and come back again, and
'WHERE SMALL BOYS GO
ROUND ON ONE ROLLER
SKATE '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 3 1
assume aliases, and break out iuto circuses and stray into queer,
dark courts, where small boys go round on one roller skate, or
little green churchyards only a few yards from the cabs and the
crowd, where there is nobody but the dead people, who have
grown tired of it all. From the top of the Hammersmith 'bus,
as it went through the Strand that morning, I saw funny little
openings that made me long to get down and look into them ;
but I had my relation to think of, so I didn't.
Then there is the well-settled, well-founded look of every-
'^ing, as if it had all come ages ago, and meant to stay for ever,
and just go on the way it had before. We like that — the
security and the permanence of it, which seems to be in souio
way connected with the big policemen, and the orderly crowd,
and ' Keep to the Left ' on the signboards, and the British coat
of arms over so many of the shops. I thought that morning
that those shops were probably the property of the Crown, but
I was very soon corrected about that. At home I am afraid we
fluctuate considerably, especially in connection with cyclones
and railway interests — we are here to-day, and there is no tell-
ing where we shall be to-morrow. So the abiding kind of city
gives us a comfortable feeling of confidence. It was not very
long before even I, on the top of the Hammersmith 'bus, felt
that I was riding an Institution, and no matter to what extent
it wobbled it might be relied upon not to come down.
jj. I don't know whether you will like our admiring you on
account of your griminess, but we do. At home we are so
j monotonously clean, architecturally, that we can't make any
1 aesthetic pretensions whatever. There is nothing artistic about
white brick. It is clean and neat and sanitary, but you get
tired of looking at it, especially when it is made up in patterns
with red brick mixed in. And since you must be dirty, it may
32 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
gratify you to know that you are very soothing to Transatlantic
nerves suffering from patterns like that. But you are also mis-
leading. ' I suppose,' I said to a workman in front of me as we
entered Fleet Street, ' that is some old palace ? Do you know
the date of it ? '
' No, miss,' he answered, ' that ain't no palace. Them's the
new Law Courts, only built the last ten year ! '
The new Law Courts !
' The Strand ! ' ' Fleet Street ! ' ' Ludgate Hill ! ' ' Cheap-
side ! ' and I was actually in those famous places, riding through
them on a 'bus, part of their multitude. The very names on
the street corners held fascination enough, and each of them gave
me the separate little thrill of the altogether unexpected. I had
unconsciously believed that all these names were part of the
vanished past I had connected them with, forgetting that in
London names endure. But I began to feel that I ought to be
arriving. 'Conductor,' I said, as he passed, 'stop the 'bus,
and let me get down at IIalf-]\roon Street, Piccadilly.'
' We're goin' strait awai from it, miss ; you get that red 'bus
standin' over there — that'll taike you ! '
So I went all the way back again, and on to my relation's,
on the top of the red 'bus, not at all regretting my mistake.
But it made it almost twelve o'clock when I rang the bell —
Mrs. Portheris's bell — at the door of her house in Half-Moon
Street, Piccadilly
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 33
IV
I.^RO^r llic outside I didn't think much of ^Irs. rorfheris's
lioiise. It was very tall, and very plain, and very narrow,
and quite expressionless, except that it wore a sort of dirty brown
frown. Like its neighbours, it had a well in front of it, and
steps leading down into the well, and an iron fence round the
steps, and a brass bell-handle lettered ' Tradesmen.' Like its
neighbours, too, it wore boxes of spotty black greenery on the
window-sills — in fact, it was very like its neighbours, except
that it had one or two solemn little black balconies that looked
as if nobody ever sat in them running across the face of it, and
a tall, shallow porch, with two or three extremely white stone
steps before the front door. IIalf-]\[oon Street, to me, looked
like a family of houses — a family differing in heights and
complexions and the colour of its hair, but sharing all the
characteristics of a family — of an old family. A person draws a
great many conclusions from the outside of a house, and my
conclusion from the outside of my relation's house was that sl.e
couldn't be very well off to be obliged to live in such a plain
and gloomy locality, with ' Tradesmen ' on the ground-floor
and I hoped they were not any noisy kind of tradesmen, such
aa shoemakers or carpenters, who would disturb her early in
the morning. The clean-scrubbed stone steps reflected very
favourably, I thought, upon Mrs. Portheris, and gave the
aoQse, in spite of its grimy, old-fashioned, cramped appearance,
■
34
AN AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
•from the outside I didn't think much of MRS. PORTHERIS'S HOUSE'
AN AMERICAN GIRT. IN LONDON 35
a look of I'cspi'ctability which redeemed it. But I did not see
at any window, beliind the spotty evergreens, the sweet, sad
face of my relation, thougli there were a hand-organ and a
monkey and a German band all operating within twenty yards
of the house.
I rang the bell. The door opened a great deal more
quickly than you might imagine from the time I am taking to
tell about it, and I was confronted by my first surprise in
London. It was a man — a neat, smooth, pale, round-faced
man in livery, rather fat and very sad. It was also Mrs.
Portheris's interior. This was very dark and very quiet, but
what light there was fell richly, through a square, stained-
glass window at the end of the hall, upon the red and blue of
some old china above a door, and a collection of Indian spears,
and a twisting old oak staircase that glowed with colour. j\lrs.
Portheris's exterior had prepared me for som.ething different. I
did not know then that in London everything is a matter of the
inside — I had not seen a Duchess living crowded up to her
ears with other people's windows. With us the outside counts
so tremendously. An American duchess, if you can imagine
such a person, would consider it only due to the fitness of
things that she should have an imposing front yard, and at least
room enough at the back for the clothes-lines. But this has
nothing to do with Half-Moon Street.
'^ * Does Mrs. Portheris live here ? ' I asked, thinking it was
just possible she might have moved.
' Yes, miss,' said the footman, with a subdued note of inter-
rogation.
I felt relieved. ' Is she — is she well ? ' I inquired.
* Quiie well, miss,' he replied, with the note of interrogation
a little more obvioi^g.
36 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
* I should like to see her. Is she in ?'
' I'll h'inqiiire, miss. 'Oo shall I sai, miss ? *
I thought I would prepare my relation gradually, ' A lady
from Chicago,' said I.
* Very well, miss. Will you walk upstairs, miss ? '
In America drawing-rooms are on the ground-floor. I
thought he wanted to usher me into Mrs. Portheris's b3droom.
' No, sir,' I said ; ' I'll wait here.' Then I thought of Mr.
Mafferton, and of what he had said about saying ' sir ' to
people, and my sensations w^ere awful. I have never done it
once since.
The footman reappeared in a few minutes with a troubled
and apologetic countenance. ' Mrs. Portheris says as she doesn't
want any think, miss ! I told her as I didn't understand you
were disposin' of anythink ; but that was 'er message, miss.'
I couldn't help laughing — it was so very funny to think of
my being taken for a lady-pedlar in the house of my relation,
' I'm very glad she's in,' I said. ' That is quite a mistake !
Tell her it's Miss Mamie Wick, daughter of Colonel Joshua P.
Wick, of Chicago ; but if she's lying down, or anything, I can
drop in again.'
Ho was away so long that I began to wonder if my relation
suspected me of dynamite in any form, and he came back look-
ing more anxious than ever. ' Mrs. Portheris says she's very
sorry, miss, and will you please to walk up ? * * Certainly,' I
said, ' but I hope I won't be disturbing her ! '
And I walked up.
It was a big square room, with a big square piano in it, and
long lace curtains, and two or three gilt-framed mirrors, and a
great many old-fashioned ornaments under glass cases, and a
tinkling glass chandelier in the middle. There were several
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
37
oll-painfcings on tlie walls — low-necked portraits juul landscapes,
principally dark-green and black and yellow, with cows, and
quantities of lovely china. 'J'lie furniture was red brocade, with
spindly legs, and there was a tall palm in a pot, which had
nothing to do with the rest of the room, by itself in a corner. I
remembered these things afterwards. At the tinu* I noticed
chiefly two young persons with the pinkest cheeks I ever saw,
\
' THEY SAT UP VERY NICELY INDEED '
out of a picture-book, sitting near a window. They wTre dressed
exactly alike, and their hair hung down their backs to their
waists, although thej^ mnst have been seventeen ; and they sat
up very nicely indeed on two of the red chairs, one occupied
.with worsted work, and the other apparently reading aloud to
her, though she stopped when I came in. I have seen something
since at Madame Tussand's — but I daresay you have often noticed
3S ylX AM/:/^/CAX CJRT. IX I.OXDOX
it yourself. And sl:iii(liii<^ in tlic iniddlo of tlie n)oni, Avitli licr
hand on ji centro-tablo, was ^Irs. Portlicris.
^ly first impression was that she had been standing therefor
tho hisi/ hour in that inimovablo way, with exactly that remark-
able expression; and it struck me that she could goon standing
for the next without altering it, quite comfortably — she seemed
to be so solidly placed there, with her hand upon the table.
Though I wouldn't call ^frs. Portheris stout, she was massive —
rather, of an impressive build. Her skirt fell in a commanding
way from lier waist, though it liitched up a little in front, which
spoiled tho effect. SIk^ had broad squ.'iro shoulders, and a lace
collar, and a cap with pink ribbons in it, and grey hair smooth
on each side of her face, and large well-cut features, and the ex-
pression I spoke of. I've seen the expression since among the
l^'gyptian antiquities in tho liritish Museum, but I am unable to
tlescribe it. ' Armed neutrality ' is the only phrase that occurs to
me in connection with it, and that by no means does it justice.
For there was curiosity in it, as well as hostility and reserve —
but I won't try. And she kept her hand — it was her right hand
— upon tho table.
'Miss TTif/i-,' she said, bowing, and dwelling upon the name
with strong doubt. ' I believe I have a connection of that name
in America. Is your father's name Joshua Vdev ? '
' Yes, Mrs. Portheris,' I replied ; ' and he says he is your
nephew. I've just come. How do you do?' I said this be-
cause it was the only thing the situation seemed to warrant me
saying.
' Oh, I am quite in my usual health, thank you ! INfy
nephew by marriage — a former marriage — a very distant con-
nection.'
'Three thousand five hundred miles,' said Ij 'he lives in
AX AMEIUCAX GIRL L\ LOXDON
39
riiicML,^!). Voii liavc iK'Vt'i' Ix'fii over lo set' us, Mrs. PortluM'is.'
At this ))oiii( I Wiilki'd across to one (tf the s|)iii(lly red cliairs
and Silt (l(i\vii. I tlidiiLilit IIu'Ii that slic had iorj^'ottcii to ask
jiu' ; but even now, whi-n I know shr hadn't, i am not at till
^i I
->>'
"^^
i*"T!i
^.v. ■-^i^«5,.;
I -.1.'; ■'.;■>- -t
- g^
■^-" ■.^jfyff^^ >4^ N^
''<!^- -*»>••*«*?!
'the old lady GATIIEnKI) IIKlibKLl' IT .\NI> LouKKD AT ME '
sorry I sat down. I find it is possible to stand up too much in
this countiy.
^ The old lady gathered herself up and looked at me. ' Where
are your Aither and mother ? ' she said. '
40 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
' In Chicago, Mrs. Portheris. All very well, thank you ! 1
liatl a cable from them this morning, before 1 left the hotel.
Kind legarcls to you.'
Mrs. Portheris looked at me in absolute silence. Then she
deliberately arranged lier back draperies and sat down too — not
in any amiable way, but as if the situation must be faced.
' Margaret and Isabel,' she said to the two young pink per-
sons, ' go to your rooms, dears ! ' And she waited till the
damsels, each with a little shy smile and blush, gathered up
their effects and went, before she continued the conversation.
As they left the room I observed that they wore short dresses,
buttoned down the b.xck. It be<i^an to otow verv interestiniy to
me, after the fii shock of finding this kind of relation was
over. I found mvself waiting for what was to come next with
the deepest interest. In America we are very fond of types —
perhaps because we have so few among ourselves — and it seemed
to me, as I sat there on ]\[rs. Portheris's spindly red chair, that
I liad come into violent contact with a type of the most valuable
and pronounced description. Privately I resolved to stay as
long as I could, and lose no opportunity of observing it. And
my first observation was that IMrs. Portheris's expression was
changing — losing its neutrality and beginning to radiate active
opposition and stern criticism, with an uncompromising sense
of duty twisted in at the corners of the mouth. There was no
agitation whatever, and I thought with an inward smile of my
relation's nerves.
' Then I suppose,' said Mrs. Portheris — the supposition being
of the vaguest possible importance — ' that you are with a party
of Americans. Ic seems to be an American idea to go about in
hordes. I never could understand it — to me it would be most
obnoxious. How many are there of you ? '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 41
' One, Mrs. Portlieris — and I'm the one. Poppa and momma
had set tlieir hearts on coming. Poppa thought of getting up
an Anglo-America!i 8oda Trust, and momma wanted particularly
to make your acquaintance — your various Christmas cards have
given us all such a charming idea of you — but at the last
minute something interfered with their plans and they had to
give it up. They told me to tell you how sorry they were.'
' Something interfered with their plans ! But nothing
interfered with ijonr plans ! '
' Oh, no; it was some political business of poppa's — nothing
to keep me ! '
' Then do I actually understand that your parents, of their
oivn free u-lll, permitted you to cross the Atlantic alone ? '
i ' I hope you do, ^frs. l^ortheris ; but if it's not quite clear to
you, I don't mind explaining it again.'
' Upon my word ! And you are at an hotel — which hotel ? '
j When 1 told Mrs. Portlieris the ^letropole, her indigna-
tion mounted to her cap, and one of the pink ribbons shook
, violently.
I 'It is very American!' she said: and I felt that JNfrs.
I ]\)rtlicris could rise to no more forcible a climax of di^-apjiroval.
f ]hit I did not mind Mrs. Portheris's disapproval ; in fact,
according to my classification of lier, I should have been
ilisnppointed if she had not disapproved — it would have been
out of character. So I only smiled as sweetly as I could, and
said, ' So am I.'
' Is it not very expensive ? ' There was a note of angry
wonder as well as horror in this.
' I don't know, Mrs. Portlieris. It's very comfortable.'
' I never heard of such a thing in my life ! ' said Mra.
Portheris. * It's — it's outrageous ! it's — it's net customary !
42 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
I cull it criniinul lenience on tlie part of my nephew to allow it.
He must have taken leave of his senses ! '
' Don't say anything nasty o,bout poppa, Mrs. I'ortheris,' I
remarked ; and she paused.
' As to your mother '
' Momma is a lady of great intelligence and advanced views,'
I interrupted, ' though she isn't very strong. And she is very
well acquainted with me.'
' Advanced views are your ruin in America ! May I ask
how you found your way here ? '
' On a 'bus, Mrs. Portheris — the red Hammersmith kind. On
two 'buses, rather, becar'^^ I took tlie wrong one first, and went
miles straight away from here ; but I didn't mind it — I liked it.'
' In an omnibus I suppose you mean. You couldn't very
well be o?i it, unless you went on the top ! ' And Mrs. Portheris
smiled rather derisively.
' I did ; I wenh on the top,' I returned calmly. ' And it
was lovely.'
Airs. Portheris very nearly lost her self-control in her effort
to grasp this enormity. Her cap bristled again, and the muscles
round her mouth twitched quite perceptibly.
' Careering all over London on the top of an omnibus ! ' she
ejaculated. ' Looking for my house ! And in that frock ! ' I
felt about ten when she talked about my ' frock.' ' Couldn't
you Jed that you were altogether too smart for such a position ? '
' No, indeed, Mrs. Portheris ! ' I replied, unacquainted with
the idiom. ' When I got down off the first omnibus in Cheap-
side 1 felt as if I hadn't been half smart enough ! '
She did not notice my misunderstanding. By the time I
had finished my sentence she was rapping the table with sup-
pressed excitement. •
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 43
' Miss "NVick ! ' she said — and I liad expected her to call me
Mamie, and say I was the image! of poppa! — 'you are the
daughter of my nephew — which can hardly be cjilied a connec-
tion at all — but} on that account I will give you a piece of
advice. The top of an omnibus Is not a proper place for you —
I might say, for any connection of mine, however distant ! I
would not feel that I was doing my duty toward my nephew's
daughter if I did not tell you that you mud not go there !
Don't on any account do it again ! It is a thing people never
do ! '
' Do they upset ? ' I asked.
'They might. But apart from that, I must ask you, on
personal — on family grounds — nhraij^ to go inside. In Chicago
you may go outside as much as you like, but in London '
' Oh, no ! ' I interrupted, ' I wouldn't for the world — in
Chicago ! ' which Mrs. Portheris didn't seem to undt'rstand.
I had stayed dauntlessly for half an hour — I was so much
interested in ]\Irs. Portheris — and I began to feel my ability to
prolong the interview growing weaker. I was sorry — I would
have given anything to have heard her views upon higher
education and female suffrage, and the Future State and the
Ii'ish Question ; but it seemed impossible to get her thoughts
away from the appalling Impropriety which I, on her spindly
red chair, represented. I couldn't blame her for that — I sup-
pose no impropriety bigger than a spider had ever got into lier
drawing-room before. So I got up to go. ^[rs. Portheris also
rose, with majesty. I think she wanted to show me what, if I
had been properly brought up, I might have expected reasonably
to develop into. She stood in the midst of her red brocaded
furniture, with lier hands folded, a model of what bringing up
can do if it is unflinchingly persevered in, and all the mirrors
44 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
reflected the ideal slie presented. I felt, beside lier, as if I had
never been brought up at all.
' Have you any friends in London ? ' she asked, with a very
weak solution of curiosity in her tone, giving me her hand to
facilitate my going, and immediately ringing the bell,
' I think not,* 1 said with decision.
' But you will not continue to stay at the Metropole ! I heg
that you will not remain another da\j at the Metropole ! It is
not usual for young ladies to stay at hotels. You must go to
some place where only ladies are received, and as soon as you
are settled in one communicate at once with the rector of the
parish — alone as you are, that is (iidie a necessary step. Lights
and fires will probably be extra.'
' I thought,' said I, ' of going to the Lady Guides' Associa-
tion— we have heard of it in Chicaofo throufjh some friends,
who went round every day for three weeks "with lady-guides,
and found it simply fascinating — and asking them to get me a
private family to board with. I particularly wished to see what
a private family is like in England.'
Mrs. Portheris frowned. * I could never bring myself to
approve of lady-guides,' she said. 'There is something in the
idea that is altogether too — American.' I saw that the conver-
sation was likely to grow personal again, so I said : ' Well,
good-bye, Mrs. Portheris!' and was just going, when 'Stop!'
said my relation, ' there is Miss Purkiss.'
' Is there ? ' said I.
' Certainly — the very thing ! Miss Purkiss is a veiy old
friend of mine, in reduced circumstances. I've known her
thirty-five years. She is an excellent woman, with the most
trustworthy views upon all matters. In so far as our widely
difierent social positions have permitted, Miss Purkiss and I
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
45
have been on terms, I may say, of sisterly intimacy since before
you were born. She has no occujDation now, having lost her
position as secretary to the Homo for Incurable Household Pets
through ill-health, and a very limited income. vShe lives in an
excessively modest way in Upper Baker Street — very convenient
to both the omnibuses and Underground — and if you cast in
^cx.
' IT WAS MISS PURKISS'S ADDRESS
your lot with hers while you are in England, Miss Wick ' — here
Mrs. Portheris grew almost demonstrative — 'you need never
go out alone. I need not say that she is a lady, but her cir-
cumstances will probably necessitate her asking you rather
more than the usual rate for board and lodging, in compensa-
46
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
tion for lier cliaperonage and coinpanionsliip. All I can say is,
that both will be very thorough. I will give you ]\[Iss Purkiss's
address at once, and if you drive there immediately you will be
sure to find her in. John, call a hansom ! " And ]\[rs. Portheris
went to her writing-table and wrote the address.
' There ! ' she said, folding it up and giving it to me. ' Py
all means try to arrange with Miss Purkiss, and she, being a
friend of my own, some afternoon, perhaps — I must think about
it — I may ask her to bring you to tea ! Guod-hye ! '
' n^<-x^,%~':.
* SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OF MY TRUNKS '
As the door closed behind me I heard Mrs. Portheris's voice
on the landing. ' Margaret and Isabel,' it said, ' you may come
down now ! '
* Ware to, miss ? ' said the driver.
' Hotel Metropole,' said I. And as we turned into Piccadilly
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 47
a little flutter of torn white paper went back on the wind to
Mrs. Portheris. It was Miss Purkiss's address.
After lunch I made careful notes of ^frs. Portheris niul
then spent half an hour in the midst of n,y trunks, lookin.r in
the 'Board and Lodging ' column of the 'Morning Post"^ for
accommodation which promised to differ as radically as possible
from :Miss Purkiss's.
48 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
MY principal idea was to get away as soon as possible from the
^letropole. So long as I was located there I was within the
grasp of my relation ; and as soon as she found out my insub-
ordination in the matter of her advice, I had no doubt whatever
that my relation would appear, with Miss Purkiss, all in rusty
black, behind her — a contingency I wished to avoid. Miss
Purkiss, I reflected, would probably be another type, and types
WTre interesting, but not to live with — my relation had con-
vinced me of that. And as to ]\[rs. Portheris herself, while I j
had certainly enjoyed what I had been privileged to see of her, ;
her society was a luxury regarding which I felt that I could
evercise considerable self-denial. I did not really contemplate
being forced into Miss Purkiss and Upper leaker Street by ^Mrs.
I^ortheris against my will, not for a moment ; but I was afraid *
the situation would be presented on philanthropic grounds. ^
which would be disagreeable. Miss Purkiss as a terror I felt ^
equal to, but Miss Purkiss as an object of charity might cow me. "
And Miss Purkiss in any staying capacity was not, I felt, what *
I came to Great Britain to experience. So I studied the ^
columns of the ' Morning Post ' diligently for a haven of refuge .
from Miss Purkiss. '^^
I found it difficult to make a selection, the havens were sc^f
very different, and all so superior. I believe you talk about tlu '
originality of American advertising. I never in my life saw £ ■^'
J
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 49
nowspnpot* pnge to compjiro in cither iinnginatioii or vocabuliiry
with the oiu> I scannecl that day at tlio Metropok\ It suemfd
that I could be taken all over London, at prices varying from
one ' g.' to three ' gs. ' per week, although the surprising
cheapness of this did not strike nio nntil I liad laboriously
* calculated in dollars and cents the exact value of a ' g.' I
know now that it is a term of English currency exclusively
employed in Bond Street, Piccadilly, llegent and Oxford Streets
— they never give you a price there in any other. And the
phrases descriptive of the various homes which were awaiting
me were so beautiful. 'Excellent meat breakfast,' ' a liberal
rind chai-niingly-relined home,' ' a mother's devoted super-
vision,' ' fresh young society,' ' fashionably situated and ele-
gantly furnished,' 'just vacated by a clergyman,' * foreign
huij^uajyes understood ' — whicli would doubtless include American
— ' a lofty standard of culture in this establishment.' I
wondered if they kept it under glass. I was struck with the
luunber of people who appeared in print with ' offerings ' of a
domiciliary nature. ' A widow lady of cheerful temperament
nd artistic tastes offers ' ' The daughter of a late Civil
[ Servant with a larger house than she requires offers ' This
uist have been a reference put in to excite sympathy, other-
, ise, what was the use of advertising the gentleman after he was
, |t';i(l ? Even from the sympathetic point of view, I think it was
^^ 1^ mistake, for who would care to go and settle in a house the
ihiniite the crape was off the door? Nobody.
\ Not only oriirinal advertisements of the kind I was looking
r, but original advertisements of kinds I wasn't looking for,
j.Q-~.])oaled to my interest and took up my time that afternoon.
,^^^'y'()uld any one feel disposed to lend an actress five pounds ?^
V 8l'^''"P0^^^y ^^ome wanted, with a family of quiet habits, in a
le
so AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
liealdifiil neiglibourliootl, who can give best references, for a
Persian cat.' * An elderly country rector and his wife, in town
for a month's holiday, would be glad of a little pleasant society.'
' A young subaltern, of excellent family, in unfortunate circum-
stances, implores the loan of a hundred pounds to save liim from
ruin. Address, care of his solicitors.' 'A young gentleman,
luindsome, an orphan, of good education and agreeable address,
wishes to meet with elderly couple with means (inherited) wl\o
would adopt liim. AVould make himself pleasant in the house.
Church of J']nghuid preferred, but no serious objection to Non-
conformists.'
We have nothing like this in America. It was a revelation
to me — a most private and intimate revelation of a social body
that I had always been told no outsider could look into wiLiiout
the very best introductions. Of course, there was the veil of
* A. B.' and ' Lurline,' and the solicitors' address, but that seemed
as thin and easily torn as the ' Morning Post,' and much more
transparent, showing all the struggling mass, with its hands
outstretched, on the other side. And yet I have heard Englisli
psople say how ' personal ' our newspapers are !
My choice was narrowed considerably by so many of the
addresses being other places than London, which I thought
very peculiar in a London newspaper. Having come to see
London, I did not want to live in Putney, or Brixton, or
Chelsea, or Maida Vale. I supposed vaguely that there must be;
cathedrals or Roman remains, or attractions of some sort, in
these places, or they would not be advertised in London ; but
for the time being, at any rate, I intended to content myself
with the capital. So I picked out two or three places near the
British Museum — I should be sure, I thought, to want to ]
spend a great deal of time there — and went to sec about them, f
AN AMERICAN CIRL IN LONDON 51
They were as much the sanio as the advert Isoineuts were
tlifFerent, especially from the outhiJe. From the outside they
■were exactly alike — so much so that I felt, after I had seen them
all, that if another boarder in the same row chose to approach
me on any occasion, and say that she was me, I should bo entirely
unable to contradict her. This in itself was pn^judicial. In
America, if there is one thinj:^ we are particular about, it is our
identity. Without our identities we are in a manner nowhere.
I did not feel disposed to run the risk of losing mine the minute
I arrived in England, especially as I knew that it is a thing
Americans who stay here for any length of time are extremely
apt to do. Nevertheless, I rang the three door-bells I left the
Metropole with the intention of ringing ; and there were some
minor differences inside, although my pen insists upon record-
ing the similarities instead. I spent the same length of time
upon the doorstep, for instance, before the same tumbled and
apologetic-looking servant girl appeared, wiping her hands upon
her apron, and let me into the same little dark hall, with the
Eanie interminable stairs twisting over themselves out of it, and
the smell of the same dinner accompanying us all the way up.
To be entirely just, it was a wholesome dinner, but there was so
much of it in the air that I very soon felt as if I was dining
unwarrantably, and ought to pay for it. In every case the stair-
carpet went up two flights, and after that there was oilcloth,
r:ither forgetful as to its original pattern, and much frayed as to
Its edges — and after that, nothing. Always pails and brushes on
the landings — what there is about pails and brushes that should
make them such a distinctive feature of boarding-house landings
I don't know, but they are. Not a single elevator in all three.
I asked the servant-girl in the first place, about half-way up the
fourth flight, if there was no elevator? 'No, indeed, miss,' she saidj
i 1 2
53 AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
* I wishes tliere was ! But tlieiii's things you won't find but wry
seldom 'ere. WoVo 'ad Anioricau hidics 'ero before, and they
alius askd for 'em, but they soon llnds out they ain't to bo 'ad,
miss.'
Now, liow did slio know I was an 'American lady'? I
didn't really mind about the elevator, but this I found annoy-
ing, in spite of my desire to preserve my identity. In
the course of conversation with this young woman, I dis-
covered that it was not my own possibly prospective dinner
that I smelt on the stairs. I asked about the hour for meals.
' Aou, we never gives meals, miss ! ' she said. ' It's only them
boardin' 'aouses as gives meals in ! Llrs. Jones, she only lets
apartments. But there's a very nice restirong in Tottinim
Court lload, quite convenient, an' your breakfast, miss, you
could 'ave cooked 'ere, but, of course, it would be liextra, miss.*
Then I remembered all I had read about people in I^ondon
living in ' lodgings,' and having their tea and sugar and butter
and eggs consumed unrighteously by the landlady, who was
always represented as a buxom person in calico, with a smut on
her face, and her arms akimbo, and an awful hypocrite. For a
minute I thought of trying it, for the novelty of the experience,
but the loneliness of it made me abandon the idea. I could
not possibly content myself with the society of a coal-scuttle and
two candlesticks, and the alternative of going round sightseeing
by myself. Nor could I in the least tell whether Mrs. Jones
was agreeable, or whether I could expect her to come up and
visit with me sometimes in the evenings ; besides, if she always
wore smuts and had her arms akimbo, I shouldn't care about
asking her. In America a landlady might as likely as not be a
member of a Browning Society, and give * evenings,' but that
kind of landlady seems indigenous to the United States. And
/7iV AMI:RICAN girl IX LONDON 53
aftor Mrs. T'ortlioris, 1 felt that I requiivil the coinpuuionsliip of
something' liinnan.
In the otlier two places I saw the landladies themselves in
tlieir respective drawing-rooms on the second floor. One of
the drawing-rooms was ' drapi'd ' in a way that was quite
painfully a3sthetic, considering the j^ancity of the draperies:
The flower-pots were draped, and the lamps; there were
draperies round the piano-legs, and round the clock; and where
there were not draperies there were bows, all of the Fanie
scanty description. The only thing that had not made an efloif
to clothe itself in the room was the poker, and by contrast it
looked very nude. There were some Japanese ideas around the
room, principally a paper umbrella ; and a big pjiinted palm-leaf
'[WW from India made an incident in one corner. I thought,
even before I saw the landlady, that it would be necessary to
live up to a liigh standard of starvation in tluit house, and she
confirmed the impression. She was a Miss Hippy, a short,
stoutish person, with very smooth hair, thin b'ps, and a nose like
an angle of the Pyramids, preternaturally neat in her appear-
ance, with a long gold watch-chain round her neck. She came
into the room in a way that expressed reduced circumstances
land a protest ag.'iinst being obliged to do it. I feel that tin-
particular variety of smile she gave me with her ' Good
morning ! ' — although it was after 4 r.M. — was one she kept
for the use of boarders only, and her whole manner was an
interrogation. AVhen she said, 'Is it for yourself ? ' in answer
to my question about rooms, I felt tliat I was undergoing
a cross-examination, the result of which Miss Hippy was men-
tallv tabulating.
I ' We ImvG a few rooms,' said Miss Hippy, ' certainly.' Then
ehe cast her eyes upon the floor, and twisted her fingers up in
54 Ai^ AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
her watcli-clifiin, as if in iloubfc. ' Sball you be long in
London ? '
I said I couldn't tell exactly.
' Have you — are you a professional of any bind ?' inquired
Miss Hippy. ' Not tliat I object to professional ladies — they
are often very pleasant. ^Madame Solfreno resided here for
several weeks while she was retrenching ; but ]\Iadame Solfreno
was, of course, more or less an exceptional woman. She did
not care — at least, while she was retrenching — for the society of
other professionals, and she said that was the great advantage of
my house — none of them ever would come here. Still, as I say,
I have no personal objection to professionals. In fact, we have
b.ad head-ladies here ; and real ladies, I must say, I liave gene-
rally found them. Although hands, of course, I would not
take ! '
I said I was not a professional.
'Oh!' said ]\riss Hippy, pitiably baflled. ' Then, perhaps,
you are not a — a youiirj lady. That is, of course, one can see
you are that ; but you are — you are married, perhaps ? '
' I am not married, madame,' I said. ' Have you any rooms
to let ? '
Miss Hippy rose, ponderingly. ' I might as well show you
what we /i((rt',' she said.
'I think,' I replied, 'that you might as well. Otherwise I
will not detain you any longer.' At which, curiously enougli,
all hesitation vanished from Miss Hippy's manner, and she
showed me all her rooms, and expatiated upon all their advan-
tages with a single eye to persuading me to occupy one of them.
So comprehensively voluble was she, indeed, and so impene-
trably did she fill up the door with her broad person when we
came down again, that I found no loophole of escape anywhere,
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 55
and was obliged to descend to equivocal measures. ' Have
you any rooms, Miss Hippy,' I inquired, ' on the ground
floor?'
' That,' returned Miss Hippy, as if I had put her the only
possible question that she was not prepared for, ' I have not. A
gentleman from the West Indies' — ^liss Hippy went on im-
pressively— 'hardly ever without inflammatory rheumatism,
which you will admit makes stairs an impossibility for him,
occupies my only ground-floor bedroom — just otl' the dining-
room ! '
'That is unfortunate,' I said, 'since I think in this house I
would prefer a room on the ground-floor. lUit if I decide to
take one of the others I will let you know, ^liss Hippy.'
^liss Hippy's countenance fell, changed, and again became
expressive of doubt — this time offensively.
' I've not asked for any references,' though, of course, it is my
custom '
'You will receive references,' I interrupted, 'as soon as you
require them. Good afternoon!' We were standing in the
hall, and Miss Hippy, from force of circumstances, was obliged
to unfasten the door ; but I did not hear from her, as I passed
out into the street, any responsive ' Good afternoon ! '
^Fy third experience was quite antipodal to Miss Hippy.
Her parlour was Japanesy, too, in places, but it was mostly
chipped ; and it had a great many rather soiled fat cushions in
it, quite a perceptible odour of beer and tobacco, and a pair of
gentleman's worked slippers under the sofa. The atmosphere
was relaxing after Miss Hippy, and suggested liberality of all
sorts ; but the slippers, to say nothing of the odours, aich
might have floated in from other regions, made it impossible. I
waited for the lady of the house a conscious hypocrite.
56
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
She came ia at last voluminously, rather out of breath, but
with great warmth of manner. ' Do sit down ! ' she said.
• I W.UTED FOU THE LADY OF THE HOUSE A CONSCIOUS HVPOCniTE '
* Now, it does seem strange ! Only las' night, at the table, we
were sayin' how much we wanted one more lady boarder ! You
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 57
see, I've got four youiif^ gentlemen in the City here, and of us
ladies there's just four, so we sometimes get up a little dance
amongst ourselves in the evenin's. It amuses the young people,
and much better wear out carpets than pay doctors' bills, say I.
Now, I generally play, an' that leaves only three ladies for the
four gentlemen, you see ! Now, isn't it a curious coincidence,'
she said, leaning forward with a broad and confident smile,
' that you should have cor.ie in to-day, just after we were sayin'
how nice it would be if there were enough to get up the
Lancers ! '
I bowed my acknowledgments,
' You want a room for yourself, I suppose,' my hostess went
on, cheerfully. ' My top flat, I'm sorry to say, is every bit
taken. There isn't an inch of room up there ; but I've got a
beautiful little apartment on the ground-floor you could use as
a bed-sittin' room, lookin" out on what green grass we have.
I'll show it to you ! ' — and she led me across the hall to a dis-
mantled cupboard, the door of which she threw open. ' That,'
she said, ' you could have for twenty-five shillin's a week. Of
course, it is small, but then — so is the price ! ' and she smiled the
cheerful, accustomed smile that went with the joke. ' I've another
up here,' she said, leading the way to the first landing, ' rather
j bigger — thirty shillin's. ^'ou see, they're both bein' turned out
jit present, so it's rather unfavourable ! ' — and the lady drew in
the deep breath she had lost going up the stairs.
II could think of only one thing to say : 'I believe you said
your top flat was all taken,' I remarked amiably. She was such
a gt)od-natured soul, I couldn't bear to say anything that would
hurt her feelings. ' That is unfortunate. I particularly wanted
a room in a top flat. But if I decide on one of these others I'll
let you know ! ' There were two fibs, and diametrically opposed
S8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
fibs, within half an hour, and I know it's excessively wrong to
fib ; but, under the circumstances, what could you say ?
' Do, miss. And, though I wouldn't for the world persuade
you, I certainly hope you will, for I'm sure you'd make a very
pleasant addition to our party. I'll just let you out myself.'
And she did.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 59
VI
I DROVE straiglit back to tlie Metropole, very tliankful intleed
tliat that was evidently tlie tiling to do next. If there had
been no evident thing to do nex> , I was so depressed in my mind
that I think I would have taken a ticket to Liverpcol that night,
and my passage to New York on the first steamer that was leaving.
I won't say what I did in the cab, but I spoilt a perfectly new
veil doing it. London seemed dingy and noisy, and puzzling
and unattractive, and always going to rain. I thought of our
bright clear air in Chicago, and our nice clean liouses, and our
street-cars, and our soda-water fountains, and poppa and momma,
and always knowing everybody and what to do under every
circumstance ; and all the way to the Metropole I loved Chicago
and I hated London. But there was the Metropole, big and solid
and luxurious, and a fact I understood ; and there was the nico
respectful housemaid on my corridor — it would be impossible to
convince you how different servants are with us — and a delight-
ful little fire in my room, and a tin pitcher of hot water smoking
in the basin, and a sort of air of being personally looked after
that was very comforting to my nerves. While I was getting
ready for dinner I analysed my state of mind, and blamed my-
self severely, for I found that I could not justify one of the dis-
agreeable things I had been thinking in any philosophical way.
I had simply allowed the day's experiences, capped by my rela-
tion in the morning, to overcome my entire nerve-system, which
6o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
was cliildisli and unreasonable. I wished tlien, and often since)
that Providence had given us a more useful kind of nerve-
system on our side of the Atlantic — something constructed
solidly, on the British plan ; and just as I was wishing that there
came a rap. A rap has comparatively no significance until it
comes at your bedroom door when you are alone in a big hotel
two thousand five hundred miles from home. Ihen it means
something. This one meant two cards on a salver and a mes-
sage. One of the cards read : ' Mrs. Cummers Portheris,'' with
* Miss PutMss ' written under it in pencil ; the other, ' Mr.
Charles Mafferton,' with ' 49, JTertford Street, Mayfair,' in one
corner, and ' The Idhnian Cluh ' in the other.
' Is she there now ? ' I asked the servant in acute suspense.
*No, miss. The ladies, they called about 'alf-past three,
and we was to say tliat one lady was to be 'ere again to-morrow
mornin' at ten, miss. The gentleman, he didn't leave no mes-
sage.'
Then my heart beat again, and joyfully, for I knew that I
had missed my relation and Miss Pnrkiss, and that the way of
escape was still open to me, although ten o'clock in the morning
was rather early to be obliged to go out. I must say I thought
it extremely foolish of Miss Purkiss to have mentioned the hour
— it was like a fox making an appointment with a rabbit, a
highly improbable thing for the rabbit to keep. And I went
downstairs feeling quite amused and happy, and determined to
stay amused and happy. My unexpected reward for this camn
at dinner, when I discovered my neighbours to be two delight-
ful ladies from St. Paul, Minn., with whom I conversed sociably
there, and later in the drawing-room. They had known Dr.
Oliver Wendell Holmes ; but what to my eyes gave them an
added charm was their amiable readiness to know me. I was
AN AMERICAN/ CIRr /X LOXDOX 6i
made to promise that I would send them my address when I
was settled, and to this day I sutler from unquieted pangs of
conscience because I failed to keep ray word.
By ten o'clock next morning I was in Cockspur Street, Pall
Mall, looking for the ' Lady Guides' Association.' The name in
white letters on the window struck mo oddly when I found it.
The idea, the Institution it expressed, seemed so grotesquely of
to-day there in the heart of old London, where almost everything
you see talks of orthodoxy and the approval of the centuries.
It had the impertinence that a new building has going up among
your smoky old piles of brick and mortar. You will understand
my natural sympathy with it. The minute I went in I felt at
home.
There were several little desks in several little adjoining
compartments, with little muslin curtains in front of them, and
ladies and ink-bottles inside, like a row of shrouded canary-
cages. Two or three more ladies, without their things on, were
running round outside, and several others, with their things on,
were being attended to. I saw only one little man, who was
always getting out of the ladies' way, and didn't seem properly
to belong there. There was no label attached, so 1 couldn't tell
what use they made of him, but I should like to have known.
The desks were all lettered plainly — one ' Lady Guides,' the
next ' Tickets for the Theatre,' and so on ; but, of course, I went
to the first one to inquire, without taking any notice of that — •
people always do. 1 think, perhaps, the lady was more polite
in referring me to the proper one than the man would have been.
'She smiled, and bowed encouragingly as she did it, and explained
particularly, ' the lady with the eyeglasses and her hair done up
high — do you see ? ' I saw, and went to the right lady. She
smiled, too, in a real winning way, looking up from her entry-
62 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
book, and leaning forward to hear what I had to say. Then slio
came into my confidence, as it were, at once. ' Wliat you want,'
slie said, ' is a boarding-house or private hotel. "We have all
the best private hotels on our books, but in your case, being
alone, what I should advise would be a thoroughly well-recom-
mended, first-class boarding-house.'
I said something about a private family — ' Or a private
family,' added the lady, acquiescently. ' Now, we can give you
whichever you prefer. Suppose,' she said, with the kindly
interested counsel of good-fellowship, dropping her voice a little,
' I write you out several addresses of both Idiub, then you can
just see for yourself — and the lady looked at me over her eye-
glasses most agreeably.
' Why, yes ! ' I said. ' I think that's a very good idea ! '
' Well now, just wait a minute ! ' the lady said, turning over
the pages of another big book. ' There's a great deal, as you
j)robably know, in hcallfij in London. We must try and get
you something in a nice locality. Piccadilly, for instance, is a
very favourite locality — I think we have something in Ilalf-
Moon vStreet '
' Gracious ! ' I said. ' No ! not Ilalf-Moon Street, please. I
— I've been there. I don't like that locality ! '
' Really ! ' said the lady, with surprise. ' Well, you wouldn't
believe what the rents are in Ilalf-Moon Street ! But we can
easily give you something else — the other side of the Park,
perhaps ! '
' Yes,' I sai:l, earnestly. ' Quite the other sido, if you
please ! '
' Well,' returned the lady, abstractedly running her finger
down the page, ' there's Mrs. Pragge, in Holland Park Gardens
— have you any objection to children ? — and Miss Camblewell,
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 63
in Lancaster Gate, vci'\j clean and nice. I think we'll pnfc iUcni
down. And then two or three private ones — excuse me one
minute. There! I think among those,' witli sudden gravity,
'you ought to find something suitable at from two to threc-and-
a-lialf guineas per week ; but if you do not, be sure to come in
again. We always like to give our clients satisfaction.' Tlie
lady smiled again in that pardonable, endearing way ; and I w;ig
so pleased with her, and with myself, and with the situation, and
felt such warm comfort as the result of the interview, that I
wanted badly to shake hands with her when I said Good-morn-
iuGf. But she was so enn^aged that I couldn't, and had to content
myself with only saying it very cordially. As I turned to
go I saw a slightly blank expression come over lier face, and
she coujifhed with some embarrassment, leaning forward as if to
speak to me again. But I was too near the door, so one of the
ladies who were running about detained me apologetically.
' Tiiere is a — a charge,' she said, ' of two-and-sixpcnce. You
did not know.' So I went back uncomfortably and paid.
* Thanks, yes ! ' said the lady in the cage. ' !/V'o-and-six ! No,
that is two shillings, a florin, you see — and that is four — it's
half-a-crown we want, isn't it ? ' very amiably, considering all the
trouble I was giving lier. ' Perhaps you are not very well
accustomed to our English currency yet,' as I finally counted
out one shilling, two sixpences, a threepence, and six half-
pennies. If there is a thing in this country that needs reform-
ing more than the House of Lords — but there, it isn't to be
supposed that you would like my telling you about it. At all
events, I managed in the end to pay my very proper fee to the
Lady Guides' Association, and I sincerely Lope that any of its
members who may happen to read this chapter will believe that I
never endeavoured to evade it. The slight awkwardness of the
64 -^A' AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
niistiilvo tui'iied out ratlicr pleasantly for mo, because it led me
into fiirtlier conversation uitli the lady behind the eyeglasses,
in which she asked me whether I wouldn't like to look over
their establishment. I said Yes, indeed ; and one of the outside
ladies, a very capable-looking little person, with a round face
and short, curly hair, was told oft' to take me upstairs. I
hadn't been so interested for a long time. There was the club-
room, where ladies belonging to the Association could meet or
make appointments with other people, or write letters or read
the papers, and the restaurant, where they could get anything
they wanted to eat. I am telling you all this because I've met
nundjors of pcoi)le in London who only know enough about the
Lady Guides' Association to smile when it is mentioned, and to
say, ' Did you go ilicre ? ' in a tone of great amusement, which,
considering it is one of your own institutions, strikes me as
curious. And it is such an original, personal, homelike institu-
tion, like a little chirping busy nest between the eaves of the
great unconcerned City oflices and warehouses, that it is interest-
ing to know more about than that, I think. The capable
little lady seemed quite proud of it as she ushered me from one
room into the next, and especially of the bedrooms, which were
divided from one another by pretty chintz hangings, and where
at least four ladies, ' arriving strange from the country, and else-
where,' could be tucked away for the night. That idea struck
me as perfectly sweet, and I wished very sincerely I had known
of it before. It seemed to offer so many more advantages than
the ^letropole. Of course, I asked any number of questions
about the scope and working of the Association, and the little
lady answered them all witli great fluency. It w^as nice to hear
of such extended usefulness — how the Lady Guides engage
governesses, or servants, or seats at the theatre, and provide
AX AMERICAM CIRL IX LOXDOX fij
dinners oiul entertainineiits, ami clollu'S to wear at them, and
suitable iiiannors ; and tako care of children by the day — I do
nut remember wiielher the little lady said they undertook to
hv'iw^f them up — and furnish eyes and understanding', certilied,
to all visitors in London, at ' a lixetl tariff — all except genth'-
men unacccmipanied l)y their fanulies. ' Such clients,' the little
lady said, with a shade of sadness, I fancied, that there should
b^i any limitation to the benevolence of the Association, ' the
Lady Guide is compelled to decline. It is a great pity — we
have so many gentleman-a])plicants, and there would be, of
course, no necessitv for sending iiouiki ladv-guides out with
them — we have plenty of elderly ones, widows and so on; but'
— and here the little lady grew confidentially deprecating — " it
is thought best not to. You see, it would get into the papers,
and the papers might chaff', and, of course, in our position we
can't afford to be made ridiculous. But it is a great pity ! ' — and
, the little lady sighed again. I said I thought it was, and asked
if any special case had been made of any special entreaty.
'One,' she admitted, in a justifying tone. ' A gentleman from
f]iii)an. He told us he never would have come to I'hiLdand if he
":
had not heard of our Association, being ;i perfect stranger, with-
out a friend iu the place.'
'And unacquainted with l']nglisli prejudices,' I put in.
* Quite so. And wliat could we do ? '
' What did you do ? ' I inquin>d.
'We sent two!' responded the little lady, triumphing onCv'^
more over the situation. ' Nobody could say ^oi//t]iing to that.
And he icas such a pleasant little ma'.i, and thanked us su
cordially.'
' Did you find him intelligent ? ' I asked.
'Very.' But the little lady's manner was growing rather
'
66
AX AMEIUCAX ClkL IN LONDON
ii(l>^'."ty, Jiiid ii occiirivd to luc lliaf pcrliaps 1 wns taking nioiv
inroniuitiuii tliaii 1 was eiititlrd to lor two-aiul-six. So I
wiMit ivluctaiitly dowustair.s, wisliiiiir tlii'iv was soiiR'tliiiig olse
• " WK SUNT TWO " '
that the lady-guldof^ could do for me. A little black-eyed woman
down there was givi)i<^ some very businesslike orders. ' Half
a day's slioppiu</? I sh./dld say send Miss Stuart Saville. And
AX AMF.klCAX r7/A7. IX f.OXWX 67
tell lier to 1).» vorv i>.irti('ular nl)out Iut aocoiiiits. lias y\r^.
^r.'isoii pot that private ward yet ?'
' 'I'liat/ said mv little ficd'oiie, in n siibduod tono, Ms our
iiiaiiaurtTt'ss. Slit^ plamit'il the wliolt' tliiiii'. ^\^)lldl'^t'ld lu^ad !'
' Is that so y ■ 1 r.'iiiarUe 1. "J should like to conLTatulato
her.'
'I'm atVaid there isn't time,' she returned, Itxtkin*^ tlurried ;
'and tiie niana<,a're.ss doesn't a})prove of anybody wasting it.
^\'ill you write your name in our visitors' l)ook'::''
'With i)leasure,' I said ; 'and I'll come again wlienever T
fi'i'l that 1 want aiivthing.' And I wnjte mv name — hadlv, of
course, as people always do in visitors' hooks, but with tlii'
lively satisfaction peoj)le always experience in writing their
names — why, I've never been able to discover. I passed tho
manageress on my way out. She was confronting a pair of ladies,
an ohl and a young one, in black, who leaned on their parasols
with an air of amiable indecision, and falteringly addressed her:
' I had a day and a lialf last week,' one of them said, rather
weakly; ' is there ':^ — do you want mo for anything this ? '
'J'he manageress looked at her with some impatience. 'If I
want you I'll send for you, ^liss CJypsum,' she said. The door
closed upon me at that moment, so I don't know how^ .Miss
(Jypsum got away.
As for me, I walked througli Cockspur Street and tlirough
"Waterloo Place, and so into ]Mccadilly, reflecting upon Mrs.
i'ragge, and ^liss Camblewell, and all their uncertainties.
Standing in the lee of a large policeman on one of your valuable
iron refuges in the middle of the street, a ilounced black-and-
white parasol suddenly shut down almost in my face. The lady
belonging to it leaned over her carriage and said : ' IIow d'ye
do. Miss ? Dear me, how stupid I am about names! M.isi*
F 2
68
^X AMERICAN GIRL IX I.OXDOX
Cliicngo-young-la(1y-wl,o-ran-away-witliout-gettiiig-n.y-acl.1,v.ss?
Now I've found you, just pop in '
1 1 must ask you to drive on. nuulani,' the policonian suid.
' As soon as this young lady lias popped in. ^J^here ' Now
-oy dear, what did the relation say? Tve been lon..in'. to
kn ' ° "
now.
And before 1 realised anotlier thing T was rolling up Regent.
Street statefully in tlie carriage of .Mrs. Torquilin.
AN AMERlL LV GIRL AV LONDON
69
VTT
* A RE yon pfniiirr tlioro now?' ^^rs. Torr|uilln wont on.
-^^ ' Because I'm only out for ;in airing", I can drop yoii
anvwliere xou like'
' Oh, 1)V no
means, tliank yon,
^Irs. Tor(|uilin," i
said ; ' I'v*^ beeu
tlicre alreadv,'
• " T
CAN D1«0P YOU ANYWIIKBK YOU UKK
'> »
70 A.y AMKRICAX GIRL IX LOMHXV
!Mrs. Torquilin looked ah mo witli an extraordinary expres-
sion. On top it was conscieiitionsly slioeked, nnderneatli it was
extremely curious, amused by antieipatiuii, and, through it all,
kindlv.
^ Von don't get on,' she said. 'What did J tell yon?
"Mark my words," I said to Charlies Mad'crton, "that child
knows noihlnij of what .is ahead (»f her ! "' lUit pray go on.
AVhat; happened ? '
I went on, and told ^frs. Tonpiilin what happened a good
deal as I have told you, but I am afraid not so properly,
because she was very niueh amused; and I suppose if the
stor' of mv interview with Mrs. Tortheris excited anv feeling iii
your mind, il was one of synipalhy for me. At least, that was
what I intended. J hit I was so liappy in ^Irs. Torquilin's
carriage, and so di'lighted to bo talking to .'■omebody I knew,
tliat I made as funny an account of the tender greetings of my
relation as t coulib and it lasted all the way to the ^I('tro})ole,
where I was to be dropj)ed. 1 referred to her alwiiys as ' niy
relation,' because ^Irs. Toniuilin seemed to enjoy the expression,
lucitlenlally, too, I told her about my phuis, and showed her
the addre.-sis I had from t!io lady-guide, and she was kind
enough to say that if 1 did not liud Ihem satisfactory I nuist let
lier know, and she could send me to a person of lier acquaintance,
where I should be ' very comfy, dear ' ; and I believed her. ' Voii
see,' slie said, 'I should like to take a little interest in your
plans, l;ecause you s«'eni to bo the only really American girl
I've come upon in the whole course of my travels. T!i(^ New York'
ones were all Knglish in.itations — 1 had no patience witlithem.'
'Oh!' 1 responded, cheerfully, ' tluit's only on tlu» outside,
!^^rs. Torquilin. If you ran down the Stars and Stripes I gues>}
you would find them pretty American, '
A.v ami:r/cax giri. in LOXDOX 71
* Well, yosi,' Mrs. Torijuilin jidinllftHl, vl rcniiiiilior lliaf vim
llio case'; l)uf jiisf. tluMi we stopped in fmnt of the Mrtropolo,
inid 1 boL'^'t'd Iki* to conic in imd Iiuicli witli nie. 'Dear nic,
fliilii, no ; 1 must be ofl'I " slic siiid ; l)ut 1 used all llio persuasion
I could, and represented liow drciidjully lonely it was lor nie,
and ^Mrs. Tonjuilin hesitated. Al I Iw luoni'-nt of her liesitat ion
there iloated out IVoiu th • diiiini^-rooiu a most appetisin<^
supr<^oslion of fried soles. What small mutters contribute to
important results! I don't, know anythini'' that, I have more;
cause to bo j^'rateful to than that little wandering odour. I'or
3Irs. Torrpiilin, oncounterinu' it, said, with some feelin<if, 'J\)or
child. I've no doubt it /s lonely for you. IVrhapii ] really
ought to cheer you up a Mt —I'll come ! '
And ^Irs. 'i\>ri[uilin and I pursued the wandei in^' odour into
the diuinuf-room.
We had a particularly ijfood lunch, and wc both enjoyed it
immensely, thou^di .Nfrs. Tonpiilin made a fuss about my ordering
champagne, and said it was simply ruinous, and 1 really ought to
have somebody to look after me. ' iJy the way,' she said,
' have vou seen anvthiu''' of the Maircrtons? ' I told her that
Mr. Mafl'erton had left his card thi' afternoon before, but I was
out. ' Von were out':'" said Mrs. Tonpiilin. ' What a pity ! '
I said no; J wasn't very sorry, because 1 felt so unsettled in my
mind tluit I was sure 1 I'ouldn't work myself n[) to an intellig.'ut
discussion of any of Mr. Matl'erton's favourite snbj(>cts, and lie
would hardly have found much pleasure in his visit. 'Oh! 1
think lui would,' said Mrs. Tonpiilin. ' A\'hat on earth has
'* intelligent discussion " to do with it':' I know the Matfertona
very well.' she went on, looiving at me ([uite sharply. ' Excel-
lent family — cousins of Lord Maffcrton of Mafferton. Charlie
has enough, but UQt too uuichj I should gay. llowgver, that's
72 /f.V AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
lu'itlioi' here nor thore, for ho lias no oxponsivo lial)Ifs, to m[)
Ivnowknlgc.'
'Just ima<>'Ino,' I paid, 'liis \)('\\vx, consin fo a lord! And
vet he's not a bit hauditv ! J lave vou ever s?en the lord, ^Irs.
Torquilin ?'
' Bless the child, yes ! (ione down to dinner with him more
than once I Between ourselves,' said ^Irs. Torquilin, confi-
dentiallv, ' he's an old brute — neither more nor less ! But one
can't be rude to the man. What hell have to say to it heaven
only knows! V>\\t Charlie is quite callable of sn{ipi)ing his
iimrers at him. Do have one of these ices.'
I was immensely interested. ' What has ^Ir. ^Fafierton been
doing ? ' I asked.
' I've no reason to believe he's done it vet,' said ^Irs. Tor-
(juilin, a little crossly I thought. ' JVrha]is he >von't.'
' I'm sure I hope not,' I returned. ' Mr. ^NTafferton is so
nice that it would be a pity if he got into trouble with his rela-
tions, especially if one of them is a lord.'
' Then don't let liim ! ' said ^[rs. Torquilin, more crossly than
before.
' Do you think I vrould have any Influence with him ? ' I
asked her. ' I should doubt it very much. j\[r. ^lat^'erton
doesn't strike me as a person at all susceptible to ladies'
influence. But, if I knew the circumstances, I might
try.'
'Oh, come along, child!' Mis. Torquilin returned, folding up
the napkin. ' You're too stupid. I'll see the Mpffertons in a
day or two, and I'll tell them what I think of you. Is there
nothing else you'll have ? Then let us depart, and make room for
somebody else.' And I followed !Mrs. Torquilin out of the room
■^vith a vague consciousness that she had an important voice ill
AX AMKhWCAX GIRL I\ I.OSDOX
n
the ni.anagenicnt oftlir liotcl, and liail been kindenouuli to L'ive
me my lunch.
!^^y friend did not hike Iciivi" of nie in llit^ hall. • I'd like tn
see the place," she said. 'Take me up into the drawing-
room.'
Mrs. Torquilin adndn-d the drawing-room vci-y mu;'h.
' (Sum pt nous ! ' (she said, ' Siimptnons I ' And as I walked
. '; 1 ^
•om: of the lapiks was sittino holt TTr.icHT, WITH A sTrriN. ^rA.irsTic r.Yi: '
round it with her I felt a particular kind of jdeasure in being
the more familiar willi it of the two. and a little pride, too, in
its luxurv, which I had alwavs been told was spt^ciallv desiirned
to suit Americans. I was <-o occupied with these feelings and
with ^Irs. Torquilin's remarks, that I did not observe two ladies
on a sofa at the end of the room until W(^ were almost in front
of them. Then I noticed that one of the ladies was sitting bolt
upright, with a stern, majestic eye fixed full ujion me, apparentlv
74 ^A' A.h'/:A7C.L\ oV/VA /\ LCA'/^oy
frozt'U Willi iiKliu'iiatloii ; I also noticed that it was ^frs.
Porllicrls. 'i'lic odit'i" ladv, in iiistv Mack, as 1 knew slio would
be, occupied the lUitlicr end dl" the irofa, very ninch wilted
indeed.
' Miss Wick,' said Mrs. Porthcris, portentously, standing up,
'I have been shoppiiij^ in the inti'rval, but, my friend ^liss
l^ui'kiss — this is ^liss Purkiss ; ^liss Turkiss, this is ]\Iiss AVick,
the connection from Ciiicapjo whom yon so kindly consented to
try to befriend— Aliss I'nrkiss has been here since ton o'clock.
You will excuse her rising — she i;:; ahnoL't, I might say, in a state
of collapse! '
1 turned round fo .Mrs. Tonjiiilin.
'Afrs. Torquilin," i sjiid, 'this is my relation, Afrs. Portheris.
^^frs. I\)rtheris — ]Mrs. 'rorquilin.' Jn America we always intro-
duce.
Bu\ I was astonished at the change in Mrs. Torrpiilin. She
seemed to have grown cjuite two iuclu^s taller, and she was re-
garding ^Irs. Portheris through a pair of eyeglasses on a stick
in the most inexplicable manner, with her mouth set very firmly
indeed in a sort of contemptuous smile.
' .Mrs. Cummers Portheris!' she said. ' Vcs, I think Mrs.
Cummers JVrtiieris knows me. You did not tell me, dear, that
Mrs. Pcrtlieris was your relation — but you need not fear that I
shall think any the less of you for that.'
'Jleppy,' said ^^rs. Portheris, throwing up lier cliin, but
looking distinctly nervous, ' your temper is much the same, lam
sorry to see, as it always was.'
Mrs. Torquilin opened lier mouth to reply, but closed it again
resolutely, witli an expression of intinite disdain. Then, to my
surprise, she took a chair, in a way that told me distinctly of
lier intention not to desert me, I felt at the moment that I
Ay AMKRICAX GIRL IX I.OXDON 75
would liavc given anylliliiL^'' to lie doscrted — tin* sitiiatir.u was
so very cmbaiTassiiig, Tlu' only thing 1 could tliiidc of to do
was to ask Miss Purkiss if she and Mrs. PoiMlieris wouldn't
have some lunch. ^liss Purkiss looked quite clu^erful for a
moment, and Ix'u'an to unbutton her glove; hut her countenanco
fell when my unfeeling relation forbade her with a look, and said :
* Thank you, no. Miss Wick! Having waited so long, we can
easily manage without food a little longer. Let us get to our
arrangements. J'erhaps ^liss Purkiss will tell Misis "Wick
what she has to offer her.' Mvs. Porthcris was evidently
trying to ignore ^frs. Torquilin, and sat offensively, and side-
ways to her; but she could not keep the apprehension out of
liCr evt\
' Certainlv ! ' I said ; ' but Miss Purkiss must have some-
thing.' I was determined to decline, ])ut I wished to do it as
mercifully as possible. ' 'I'ell somebody,' I said to a servant who
liad come up to poke the fire, 'to bring up some chiret and
crackers.'
' Piscuits, child,' put in ?Irs. Torquiliu, 'is what you mean.
Biscuits the young lady means' — to the servant — 'and be
sharp about it, for we want to go out imn -diately.' Then —
' Miiy I ask what arrangements you were thinking of offering
:.liss Wick ? '—to ^liss Purkiss.
^liss Purkiss began, cpuivi'ringly, that she had never dono
such a thing in her life before, but as Mrs. I'ortheris particularly
wished it
' For your own good, Jane,' interrupte 1 ]\rrs. Portheris ;
* entirely for your own good. I don't call that gratitude.'
Mis.s Purkiss hastily admitted that it was for her own good,
of course, and that Mrs. Portheris knew her far too well to
believe for a momout tbut §hc v/as not grateful j but I could
76 AX A.U/:AVt\lX (7/AY. /X /.OXPOX
lijivo a iiit'e back bcdn •oil) on (lio sccoikI floor, and tlio uso of lior
sitliiio--r()oin all dav. and l.bcint' ivcomiin'iulcd Itv ]\Ir.s. Por-
thcris, she woiddn't tliiirc of many rxlras. Well, if there wore
fires, li«r]its, the u?-(' of the bath and piano, Ijeots, and friends to
meal?, that would be nil.
'it is (jiiite impossible!* said Mrs. 'foniniliii. 'J'm sorry
yoii had the trouble of comin:'-. In the liist, plaee, I fear .mi
rjiniiii I'ricud,' with emphasis and a eiirsorv u'lanee at Mrs. l*or-
tlieris's chair, ' would liiid it dull in l'pp(>r I'aktT Street. Jii
the second' — .Mrs. 'I'orquilin hesitated for a moment, and tlieii
made tlio plunge — '1 have taken a tint for the season, and .Miss
^^'ick is roniino- to m<\ I l/dieve that is our little plan, mv
dear' — with a meaninuf smile to me. 'J'hon Mrs. Toniuilin
looked at ^^rs. I'ortheris as if she were wonderinj^'' whether there
could be any diseiverable reason whv mv relation should stav
any longer. .Mrs. j'drlhcris rose, routed, but with a calm eye
and a steady front. ' In that ease I Aoy»(' you will bi> forbearing
with ht-r, lli'l)j>y," she said. ' Ivcmcmbt'r that >hi' is a stranger
to our wavs of thinkinu' and doiiiijf. and has iirobablv never had
tlie advantages of np-briu'n'ng that vou and I have. I liave no
doubt, however, that my ncjjliew, Colonel Wick, has done his
best for her. Ax i/nii arc jn-nluihlij ni'-ifrr^ ]\c is worth his
million.'
]\Irs. Torqnilin missed the sarcasm. ' Not 1 !' .'^he returned,
coollv ; 'but I'm sure Iin verv glad to hear it, for Miss AVit'ks
sake. As to my temper, I've noticed that those know inosfc
.about it who best deserve it. 1 ilon't think von need ir trrii
your.self about your young connection. Mrs. (''immers l*orthcris.'
'No,' said I, meeklv ; ' I should hate to be a weij^ht on your
mind.'
^frs. I\trt)ieris took my hand in (piite an affect ing manner.
Ax AMKkiCAX C.lk'l. IS' I.0\1H\V
n
'TluMi 1 IcaWyou, Mks AVick,' she sukl, ' to tliis lady - aid to
I'rovidenct'.'
'"THEN I I.r.AVr Yor, miss wick." RIIK RAin, "TO THIS I.AliV AMI ?'0
rivjviM-.Nci: ■" '
' IVtween tlioin,' I said, ' T oiiiilit to liavo a very good time.'
]\Irs. Purtlieris dropped my hand. '1 feel ,' she said, 'tliat
78 /1X AMrj^/CAX CI lit. IX lOXPOX
1 liaw dune my |»art lowartl you ; bill iviiicniber, if ovci'
you ii'nt'.l a hoiiic, Miss ]*urkiss will take you iu. When in
doubt '
* Play trumps! * said Mrs. Torquilin from lli.' window, wjieiv
.she stood with licr Ijack to all of us. ' [ alwavs do. Is thai
your carriage waiting outside, Mrs. Cummers Portlieris r'
'It is,' said my relation, l)etrayed into asperity. 'I hopo
you have no objection to it ! '
' Ob, none — not tlie h'ast. lUit the liorses seem verv
restive.'
'(Vime, ^li.ss Purkiss!' said mv relation.
' 'I'lu' wine and Ijiscuits, dear love," said Miss IVirkihS, ' are
just arriving-.'
But ^frs. Portheris was bowing, witli stately indefinitencss,
to Mrs. Torquilin's back.
* Come, ^liss I'urkiss ! ' she commanded again. 'You can
get a sandwich at the " A. Ji, C." '
And Miss Purkiss arose and followed my relation, whicli w;.i
tlie saddest tiling of all.
As soon as they were well out of the room, Mrs. Torquilin
turned round. ' I siipjiose you'll wonder about the why and
wherefore of all this turn-up,' she said to me, lier cheeks
Hushed and her eves siiarkling. 'It's a long storv, and I'll tell
you another time. But it comes to this in the end — that
ft'
creature and I married into the same family. !My husband and
the late -lolin Portheris, poor fellow, were step-brothers ; and that
old cat had the impudence — but there's no use going into it
now. All I have to sny is, she generally meets her match
when she meets me. 1*11 put up with no hanky-panky
work from ]\Irs. Cummers Portheris, mv dear— and well she
knows it r
/;.\- ami:kicax ci/^r. ix r.oM^ox 70
' Tt Wiis (•( rtniiilv nic c (if v(.ii to liclp luc out of I lie dillii'iiltv,
!Mrs. Toniuiliii." 1 s;;i 1, • Dir I'd lallnr ^j-o any\vln'iv than to
!Miss PiirUiss's; Inil I'm smitv Voii I. a I io '
'Trll a tarradiddli' '.•' Not a hit of it, iiiv doai- — I meant it.
Two aiv l)»'tti'r llian ono. aiiv dav — I've plcnlN <•(* room in mv
little Hat, and if yon like to sliarc tiif expenses, 1*11 not object.
At all events, we can bnt try it, and it will be sliowin<jf v*My
^ood feelin<( towards the Malfeiton.s. J'm not a i^ri-at hand for
iunketini.' mind von, but we'll mauaut* to amuse ourselves w
little — a little giddy-<,'oatin,i^' d<.es nobody any harm.'
M'hen r kissed Mrs. Toi-(|uilin, ami she kissed me, and I told
her how extremelv obli(>('d 1 was to her, and asked her if i;he had
really considered it; and Mrs. Tonjuilin said, wasn't it enon^di
that I should be left to Mliat woman," nu'aninyf mv relation, and
that 1 should come next dav to see how we could best arranj^e
matters. 'And while I think of it, child, here is my addres.s,'
my friend continued, takin^; (»ut her card-case, and watchinjr
me verv carefullv. with a little smile about her mouth. I looked
at it. I think my embarrassment ^n-atitit'd her a little; lor the
card read, ^ Lodi/ 'J'orijin'liii, 102 Cadogan Mansions, S.W.' I
didut know what to sav. And 1 had he. mi callin«^ a ladv of
title ' ^frs.' all this time! Still, I rellected, she would hardly
have been so nice to me if I had oH'ended hi'r very much, and
if she had been particular about her title she could have men-
tioned it.
'It seems,' I said, ' that I have been makiuL? a mistalce. I
expected to make mistakes in this country; but I'm sorrv I
be<ran with vou.'
'Nonsense, child!' she returned. ' Tt was just my little
joke — and I made Charlie ]\IaHerton kee[) it. There's precious
little in the handle T assure you — exci'pt an extra half-crown in
^■0 Ay AMERICAS' GIRL IX LOADOM
ono*s bills ! ' Ami Ludy Torquilin gave me her hand to say
good-bye.
' Ciood-bye,* I snid ; ' I think handles are nice all the same.'
And then— it is an uncomfortable thing to write, but it hap-
pened—I thought of sometliing. I was determined to make no
more mistakes if asking would prevent it.
' Please tell me,' I said, ' for you see I can't possibly know—
am I to call you "your ladyship," or '• my lady"?'
' Now don't talk rubbish ! ' said Lady Torquilin. ' You're
to call me by my name. You ;ire too (paaint. Ue a good child
— and don't be lute to-morrow.'
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
8r
VIII
* TF I only liatl my own lionse in PoH man Street,' Lady Torqnilln
J- remarked next day when we were liaving our tea in her
flat, ' I could makt. you a great deal more comfy. Here we
are just a bit cramped— "crowded," as you say \xx America.
But you can't eat yoin- cake and have it too.'
' Wliicli iiave you done, Lady Torquilin,' I inquired, 'with
your cake ? '
' Let it,' said my friend—' twenty-five guineas a week, my
dear, which is something to a poor woman. Last season it
only brought twenty, and cost me a fortune to g.^t it clean a^^ain
after the pigs who lived in it. For the extra five I have to bo
thankful to the Duchess.'
l^ ' Did you really let it to a Duchess ? ' I asked, with deep
interest. ' How lovely ! '
f 'Indeed I did not! But the Duchess came to live round
the corner, and rents went up in consequence. ^'ou don't
know what it means to property-owners in London to have a
duchess living round the corner, my child. It means ercn,.
thing. Not that I'm freehold in Portman Street -I've only a
lease,' and Lady Torquilin sighed. This led us naturally into
matters of finance, and we had a nice, sensible, practical discus-
sion about our joint expenses. It doesn't matter to anvbody what
our arrangement was, but I must say that I found great occa-
sion lor protest against its liberality towards me. ' Nonsense ! '
G
82 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
said Lady Torquilin, invariaLly ; ' don't be a foolish kitten ! It's
probably less than you would pay at a good private hotel- -
that's the advantage to you. Every time we take a hansom ir
will be only sixpence each instead of a shilling — that's tli^'
advantage to me; and no small advantage it is, for cabs an'
my ruin. And you'll save me plenty of step:', I'm sure, my
dear ! So there, suy no more about it, but go and get your
boxes.'
So I drove back to the Metropole finally, ond as I lockcil
my last trunk I noticed a fresh card on the mantelpiece. It
was another of Mr. Charles Mafferton's ; and on the back was
written in pencil : ' I lioiie you are meeting vUh no d}j]icidtie><.
Should he glad to he of use in any way. Please let me hiow your
jwrmanent address as soon as 2^ossihle, as the mother and sister.-'
would liJit to call upon you. — C. M.' This was nice and kind
and friendly, and I tried in vain to reconcile it with what I had
heard of English stiffness and exclusiveness and reserve, i
would write to Mr. ]\[afferton, I thought, that very night. I
supposed that by the mother he meant his own, but it struck
me as a curious expression. In America we specify our parents,
and a reference to 'the mother' there would probably be held
to refer back to Eve. But in Enofland vou like all kinds of
distinguishing articles, don't you ?
Lady Torquilin's flat was a new one, of th'^ regular American
kind — not a second or third floor in an old-fashioned London
house — and had a share, I am thankful to say, in a primitive
elevator. The elevator was very small, but the man in the
lower hall seemed to stand greatly in awe of it. ' To get them
there boxes up in this 'ere lift, miss,' he said, when I and niv
trunks presented ourselves, ' she'll 'ave to make three trips at '
least' — and he looked at me rather reproachfully. ' Ware do j
I
/IN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 83
you want 'em puh out ? ' I said, ' Latly Torquilin's flat.'
'That's Xuinber Four,' lie couimentecl, 'a good ways up. If
you wouldn't mind a h'extra sixpence, miss, I could get a man
off the street to 'elp me with 'em — they do be a size ! ' I said
by all means, and presently my imp(^dimenta Avero ascendiug
with much deliberate circumstance, one piece at a time. Tho
acoustic properties of Cadogan INFansions are remarkable.
Standin;' at the foot of that elevator, encouraging its labours
as it weve, I could not possibly help overhearing l^ady Tonpiilin's
reception of my trunks, mingled with the more subdued voices
of her housemaids. It was such a warm reception, expressed
in such graphic terms, that I thought I ought to be present
myself to acknowledge it ; and the man put on two ordinary-
sized valises next, to allow me to go up at the same time.
'We've got our ordefs, miss, to be pertickeler about wot she
carries, miss,' he said, when I thought a trunk or two mights
accompany me. 'You see, if anvthini' w^nt wrongf Avitli 'er
works, miss, there's no sayin" ware we'd l)e ! ' — and we solemnly
began to rise. ' Ladies in the ^NFansions don't generally use tho
lift such a very great deal,' he remarked further, ' especially
goin' down. They complain of the sinkin'.'
' I shall always go up and down in it,' I said. ' I don't
mind the sinking. I'm used to it.'
* Very well, miss. You 'ave only to press the button and
she'll come up ; an' a great convenience you'll find 'er, miss,'
lie returnecT, resignedly, unlocking the grated door on Lady
Torquiliu's flat, where my hostess stood with her hands folded,
and two maids respectfully behind her, regarding the first
instalment of my baggage. After she had welcomed me : ' It's
curiosity in its way,' said Lady Torquilin ; ' but what's to be
done with it, the dear oidy knows — unless we sublet it.' It
a 2
84 AjV AMERICAX GIRL IX LOXDOX
required some strength of mind to tell lier that lliore were two
more coming up. Tlie next one slie called an abnormity, and
the third she called a barn — simply. And I must say my
trunks did look imposing in Lady Torquilin's flat. Finally,
however, by the exercise of ingenuity on our parts and muscle
on the maids', we got the whole of my bnggage ' settled up,' as
Lady Torquilin exjirossed it, and I was ready for my first
approved and endorsed experience in your metropolis.
It came that afternoon. ' I am going to take vou ' said
Lady Torquilin at lunch, 'to Mrs. Fry Hamilton's "at home."
She likes Americans, and her parties — " functions," as society
idiots call it — disgusting word — are generally rather "swagger,"
as they say. I daresay you'll eniov it. !Make yourself as tidv
as possible, mind. Put on j'our pretty grey ; tuck in that
" fringe " of yours a bit too, my dear ; and be ready by live
sharp.'
' Don't you like my bangs, Lady Torquilin ?'
' Say your fringe, child ; people don't " bang " in England
— except doors and the piano. No, I can't say I'm fond of it.
What were you given a forehead for, if you were not intended
to show it ? I fancy I see Sir Hector, when he was alive,
allowing me to wear a fringe ! ' And Lady Torquilin pushed
my hair up in that fond, cheerful, heavy-handed way people
liave, that makes you back away nervously and feel yourself a
fright. I went to my room wondering whether my affection
for Lady Torquilin would ever culminate in the sacrifice of my
bangs. I could not say, seriously, that I felt equal to it then.
We went to ^Irs. Fry Hamilton's in a hansom — not, as Lady
Toiquilin said, that she had the least objection to omnibuses,
especially when they didn't drop one at the vevy door, but
because there were no omnibuses very convenient to the part of
AX A ME RICA X GIRL IX LOXDOX 85
Cromwell Hoad that ^Frs. Fry Ifainiltoii lived in. We inspected
several before Lady ^J'orquilin made a selection — rubber-tyred,
yellow-wheeled, with a horse attached that would hardly stand
still while we got in. I was acutely miserable, he went so
fast ; but Lady Torquilin likt'd it. ' He's perfectly fresli, poor
darling ! ' she said. ' It breaks my heart to drive behind a
wretched worn-out creature with its head down.' I said, Yes,
I thought he was very fresh indeed, and asked Lady Torquilin
if she noticed how he waofirled his head. ' Dear beastie ! ' she
rephed, ' lie's got a sore moutli. Suppose your mouth were
perfectly raw, and you had a bit in it, and a man tugging at
the reins ' JUit I couldn't stand it any longer; I put my
parasol up through the door in the top. ' ^fake him stop
waggling ! ' I called to the driver. ' It's only a little 'abit of
'is, miss,' the driver said, and then, as the horse dropped his
pace, he whipped him. Instantly Lady Torquilin's parasol
admonished him. ' If you flog your horse,' she said emphati-
cally, ' I get out.' I don't think I have ever driven in a hansom
with Lady Torquilin since that our parasols have not both gone
through the roof to point statements like these to the cabman,
Lady Torquilin usually anguished on the dear liorse's account,
and I unhappy on my own. It enlivens the most monotonous
drive, but it is a great strain on the nerves. I generally beg
for a four-wheeler instead ; but Lady Torquilin is contemptuous
of four-wheelers, and declares she would just as soon drive in
the British Museum. 8he says I will get used to it if I will
only abstract my mind and talk about something else; and I
am trying, but the process is a very painful one.
When we arrived at ^[rs. Fry Hamilton's I rang the bell.
' Bless you, child ! ' said Lady Torquilin, ' that's not the way.
They'll take you for a nursery governess, or a piano-tuner, or a
86
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
bill ! This is tlie jiropor lliing lor visitors.' And with that-
Lady Torqnilin riippcil sonorously and rang a ]K'al — such a rap
and peal as I had never heard in all my lite before. In America
"'MAKE IIIM STOP MAGGLING," I CALLED TO THE DRIVEit '
we have only one kind of ring for everybody — from the mayor
of the city to the man who sells plaster Cupids and will take
old clothes on account. A\"e approach each other's door-bells,
as a nation, with much greater deference ; and there is a certain
AX AMKRICAX GIRL IX I.OXDOX 87
Imnulir)^ in tlic way wo intnxliico our personalities anywliere.
I ft'lt iinconifortable on ^Frs. Fry Hamilton's doorsti^p, as if 1
were iiof, individually, worth all that noise. Since tlien I liavo
been (»bligcd to ' .i and ring myself, because Lady Torquilin
likes me to be as proper as I can ; but there is always an in-
i-onipleteness about the rap and an ineft'eetualness about the
ring. I sim})ly liaven't Iho education to do it. And when the
ibotman opens the door I feel that my face exi)resses deprecat-
ingly, 'It's only me ! ' ' JJap and ring! ' says Lady Torquilin,
deridingly, 'it's a tap and tiid-ile!' Lady Torquilin is fond of
alliteration.
Inside quite a few ])eo])le were ascending and descending a
narrow staircase that clindjed against the wall, taking up as
little room as it could ; and a great many were in the room on
the ground-floor, where refresliments were l)eing dispensed.
'J'hey were all beautifully dressed — if I have learned anything in
Lngland, it is not to judge the English by the clothes they wear
in America — and they moved about with great precision,
making, as a general thing, that pleasant rustle which we know
to mean a silk foundation. The rustle was the onlv form of
conversation that appeared to be general, but I noticed speak-
ing going on in several groups of two or three. And I never
saw better going up and down stairs — it was beautifully done,
even by ladies weighing, I should think, quite two hundred
])ounds apiece, which you must reduce to " stun" for yourself.
Lady Torquilin led the way with great simplicity and directness
into the dining-room, and got tea for us both from one of the
three white-capped modestly-expressionless maids behind the
table — I cannot tell you what a dream of peace your servants
are in this country — and asked me whether I would have
sponge-cake, or a cress sandwich, or what. ' But/ I said,
£8 A\ AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXPON
' wliere is ^Irs. Fry lliuiiiltou ? — I luivon't beon introduced.'
'All in <^()od time,' said iiJidy Torquilin. 'It's just as well
to take our tea when we can get it — wt5 won't bo able to turn
round in here in half an hour!' — and Lady Torquilin took
another sandwich with coniposun\ ' Try the plum-cake,' she
advised me in an aside. ' JJuszard — I can tell at a glance ! 1
have to denv mvself.'
And I tried the plum-cake, but with a sense of guilty
apprehension lest ^frs. Fry Jlamilton should appear in the
doorway and be naturally surprised at the consumption of her
refreshments bv an utter stranger. I noticed that almost
everybody else did the same thing, and that nobody seemed at
all nervous ; but I occupied as much of I^ady Torquilin's shadow
as I could, all tlie same, and on the way up implored her, saying.
' Have I any crumbs ? ' I felt that it would require mort^
hardihood than I possessed to face ^Irs. Fry Hamilton with
shreds of her substance, acquired before I knew her, clinging to
my person. But concealment was useless, and seemed to be
unnecessary.
'Have you had any tea?' said ^[rs. Fry Hamilton to Lady
Torquilin, her question embracing us both, as we passed before
her ; and Lady Torquilin said, ' Yes, thanks,' as nonchalantly
as possible.
Lady Torquilin had just time to say that I was an American.
' Really ! ' remarked Mrs. Fry Hamilton, looking at me
ao'ain. ' How nice. The only one I Lave to-dav, I think.'
And we had to make room for somebody else. But it was then
that the curious sensation of being attached to a string and led
about, which I have felt more or less in London ever since,
occurred to me first — in the statement that I was the only one
Mrs. Frv Hamilton had to-day.
AX AMERICAS' CIRI. IS r.OXDOX €0
Tiiidy 'r(»r(|iiiliii (li>cl;irt'(l. iis slic looked roiiiul tlu' room, that
slic did at sec ji soul she knew ; so nvi> luadc our way to a corner
and sat down, and heufan to talk in tliosti nnind-restrd .«i)asnis
tliat always attack p('o[)l(' who com;' with cacli otlicr. I'rc-
sontly — ' Tlu'ro is that nice littlo ]\lrs. Pastcllc-Joncs ! ' said
Lady Tonjuilin, ' [ mii.-<f go and speak to licrl ' — and 1 was left
alone, witli the opiKjrtunity of admiring* the cliina. I don't
wonder at vour fondness for it in London drawinuf-roonis. It
seems to be the onlv thinu' that vou can keei) clean. So manv
people were liling in past 'Mm. Fry Hamilton, however, tliat
the chiua soon lost its interest for me. Tlio people were chielly
ladies — an impressive nundjer of old, stout, rosy, white-haired
ladies in black, who gave me the idea of remarkablt^ lu alth at
their age ; more middle-aged ones, rather inclined to be palo
and thin, with narrow cheek-bones, and high-arched noses, and
sweet expressions, and a great deal of black lace and jet, much
puffed on the shoulders ; and young ones, who were, of course,
the very first Knglish young ladies I had ever seen in an
English drawing-room. I sujipose you are accustomed to
them ; you don't know what they were to me — you c(juldn"t
understand tiie intense interest and wonder and admiration
they excited in me. 1 had never seen anvthin<2f human so tall and
Strong and fine and fresh-coloured before, with such clear
limpid eyes, such pretty red lips, and the outward showing of
such excellent appetites. It seemed to me that everyone wai
an epitome of her early years of bread-and-butter and milk
puddings and going to bed at hidf-pasb nine, and the epitomes
had a charming similarity. The English young lady stood
before me in Mrs. Fry Hamilton's drawing-room as an extra-
ordinary product — in almost all cases five-eight, and in some
quite six feet in height. Her little mamma was dwarfed beside
90 /?.\' AMERICAN GIRL L\ LOXDON
her, and u lion slie KniiK'd down upon tlio occasional man who
was introihict'd to licr, in licr tall, compassionate way, he looked
(juitc insi^j-iiifu-ant, even it" he carried the square, tuinel-back
shouldtTS liv which I liave l(>arned to tell niilitarv men in this
country. AVe have nothinijf like it in America, on tlu^ sanio
scale; ollhou^di we have a great deal more air to breathe and
ve<retal)les to eat than vou. I knew that I had always been
considered 'a big girl,' but l)eside these iirni-lleshed young
women I felt myself rather a poor creature, without a mui-cular
advantage to my name. 'I'lu-y smiled a good deal, but I did
not see them talk much — it seemed enough for them to be ;
and they had a considering air, as if things were new to them,
and they had not quite made up their minds. And as they
considered they blushed a good deal, in a way that was simply
sweet. As I sat musing upon them I saw Lady Torquilin
advancing toward me, with one of the tallest, pinkest, best-
developed, and most tailor-made of all immediately behind her,
followiu'jr, with her chin outstretched a little, and her eves
downcast, and a pretty expression of doing what she was told.
' ]\ry dear,' said Jiady Torquilin, 'this is ]\riss Gladys For-
tescue. (Jladys — ]\Iiss Wick, my young lady friend from
Chicago. ]\[iss Fortescue has a brother in America, so you will
have somethini2r to chat about,*
' llowdj-do ? ' said Miss Fortescue. She said it very quickly,
with a sweet smile, and an interesting little meclianical move-
ment of the head, blushing at the same time; and we shook
hands. That is, I think one of us did, though I can't say
positively which one it was. As I remember the process, there
were two shakes ; but they were not shakes that ran into each
other, and one of them — I think it was mine — failed to ' come
off,' as you say in tennis. Mine was the shake that begins
AN AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON ^I
nowliore in particular, and ends without your knowing' it —
just the ordiuary Auu-ricau shake arrau,L''i'd on the uiuscular
systoni in couiuion ust' with us. Miss l-'ortfscuc's was a rapid,
convulsive luovoiuiMit, tl\at spranjjf IVoui her shouhlcr aud cul-
niinatcd with a certain vioh-uce. 'i hen^ was a litth^ push in it,
too, and it exploded, as it were, hi^li in air. At the same time
I noticed tlui spectacles of a small man who stood near very
much in peril frotn !Miss Fortescue's elbow, 'i'hen 1 renieiuhered
and understood tlie sense of dislocation 1 had ex'iH'rienced after
.shakiu<*' hands with ^[rs. Fry Ifaiuilton, and which I had
attributed, in the confusion of the moment, to beiug held up,
bo to speak, as an American.
'Do vou know niv brother?' said Miss Fortescue.
'I am afraid not,' I replied. 'Where does lie live ?'
'In the United States,' said ^Tiss Fortescue. ' He went oi t
there six montlis ago with a frieud. JVrhaps you know his
friend — ]\Ir. Colfax.'
I said I knew two or tliree ^Ir. Col faxes, but none of them
were Fuglish — had not been, at least, for some time back; and
did ^liss Fortescue know' what particular part of the Union her
brother and his friend Jiad gone to ? ' ^'ou know,' I said, ' wo
liave an area of three luillion square miles.' 1 daresay I men-
tioned our area with a certain pardonable pride. It's a thing
we generally make a point of in America.
I sliouldn't have thought there was anything particularly
I humorous in an area, but ]\liss Fortescue laughed prettily. ' I
I remember learning that from my governess,' she said. ' ^fy
I brother is out in the AVest — either in the town of Minneapolis
I and the State of Minnesota, or the town of Minnesota and tho
'j. State of Minneapolis. I never knew, without looking out his
address, which comes first. But I daresay there are a good
92
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
•"you HAVE THE TOE-BEOAXIXa — TUAT MUST Bi: NICE'"
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 93
many people in the United States— you miglit easily miss
liim.'
' Wo have sixty millions, :\riss Fortescne/ I said ; aiul :^[iss
Fortescue returned that in that case she didn't see how we
could be expected to know ^o/z/boLly ; and after that the conver-
sation flagged for a few seconds, during which we both looked
at the other people.
' I have never been to America,' :>riss Fortescue said. ' I
should like to go. Is it very cold ? '
I did not mention the area again. ' In some places,' I said.
'I should not like that. But then, you have the toe-began-
ing — that must be nice.'
I assented, though . did not in the least know, until :\Iis.s
Fortescue spoke of skating, what she meant. :\Iiss Fortescue
thought the skating must be nice, too, and then, she supposed,
though it was cold, we always went out prei>iuril for it. And
the conversation flagged again. Fortunately, a gentleman at
the other end of the room, where the piano was, began at tliat
moment to sing something very pleading and lamentable and
uncomfortable, with a burden of 'I love thee so,' Avidch gene-
rally rhymed with 'woe'— an address to somebody he called
'Dear-r-r ITenr-r-r-t!' as Iiigh as he could reach, hirning up
his eyes a good deal, as if he were in pain. And for Ihe" ime
it was not necessary to talk. AVhen he had finished M^ss For-
tescue asked me if it was not delightful, and I said it was—
did she know the gentleman's name ? .Aliss Fortescue said she
did not, but perhaps Lady Torquilin would. And then, just as
Lady Torquilin came up, 'How do you like J-]ngland?' asked
]\[iss Fortescue.
'Well,' asked Lady Torquilin. as we drove home in another
94
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
hansom, ' what did you and Gladys Fortescue find to say to
each other ? '
I said, quite truly, that I did not remember at the moment,
but I admired Miss Fortescue — also with great sincerity — so
'SOMEBODY HE CALLED '* DEAR-II-H IlKAU-ll R T ! "'
enthusiastically, that I daresay Lady Torquilin thought we had
got on splendidly together.
And what I wonder is, if Miss Fortescne had been asked
about our conversation, what she would have said.
^.V AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXDOX
95
IX
' TrOU are sure you know whore you're goiii^^?' Laid Lr.dy
-*- Torquilin, referring to tlie 'Army and Navy.' ' Vidorin
omnibus, remember, at Sloane-sqiiare ; a penny faro, and not
more, mind. You must learn to look after your pennies.
Now, what are you to do for me at the Stores ? '
' A packet of liglit Silurian ; your camplior and aconite
pilules; to ask how long they intend to ba over the valiso
they're fixing for you '
'Portmanteau they're re-coverini?. Yes, ero on ! '
'And what their charge is for cleaning red curtains.'
^ And to complain about the candles,' addc"* Lady Tor-
quilin.'
' And to complain about the candles.'
' Yes. Don't forget about the candles, dear. Soo what
they'll do. And I'm verij sorry I can't go with you to ^Madtime
Tussaud's, but you know I've been trotting about the whole
morning, and all those wax people, with their idiotic expres-
sions, this afternoon would simply finish mo off! I'll just lie
down a bit, and go with yoa another day ; I couldn't stand up
much longer to talk to the Queen herself ! You pop into the
'• Underground," you know, at St. James's Park, and out at
Baker Street. Now, where do you pop in ?— and out ? That's
quite right. Good-bye, child. I rang for the lift to come up a
quarter of an hour ngo; it's probably there now, and we mustn't
fi6 A.X AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
keep it waiting. Off yon go I ' Jhit tlie elevator-door was
locked, and our descent \\'m\ begun, wlien Lady Tor({uilin
liurried along the passage, arustcd, and kept it waiting on her
own account. ' It's only to say, dear,' she called through tho
grating, ' that you are on no consideration whatever to get in
or out of an Underground train while it is moving. On no cjjil-
Kuhndion vhnt ; ' but tJie grating slowly disappeared, and
the rest of Lady Torquilins admonition came down on the top
of the elevator.
I liad done everv one of the commissions. I liad been
magisterially raised and lov/ered i'rom one floor to another, to
find that everything 1 wanted was situated up and down so
many staircases ' and turn to your right, madam," that 1 con-
cluded they kept an elevator at the Stores for pleasure. I had
had an agreeable interv'ew with a very blonde young druggist
upon the pilules in the regions above, and had made it all rigiit
with a man in mutton-chop whiskers and an apron about the
candles in the regions below. I had seen a thing I had never
seen in vnj life before, a ver}^ curious thing, that interested me
enormouslv — a husband and father buving his wife's and
daughters' dry-goods — probably Lady Torquilin would tell me
to say • dress materials.' In America our husbands and fathers
are too much occupied to make purchases for their families, for
whicii it struck me that we had never been thankful enough.
' I will not have you in stripes ! ' I heard him say, as 1
passed, full of commiseration for her. 'What arrogance!' I
thought. ' In America they are glad to have us in anything.'
And I rejoiced that it was so. But, as I was saying, I lind
done all Lady Torquilin's connnissions, and was making my last
trip to the ground-floor with the old soldier in the elevator,
when a gentleman got in at one of the stopping-places, and sat
WA' AMEniCAX ClkL IX LOXDOX
97
(loW'ii opposite 1110. lie had tliat look of deliberate iiulifference
that 1 have noticed no luaiiv J'liiglish gentlemen carry about
with them — as if, although they are bodily present, their interest
iu life had been carefully put away at home — and he coq-
^ ^l-l*
\v.-
'" I wHili NOT iTAVE YOU IN r.Tr.irEri,' i m:.u;i> iiui say
centrated lils attention upon the point of his umbrella, just as
he used to do upon the salt-cellars crossing the Atlantic Ocean.
And he looked up almost with astonishment when I said, ' llow
do you do, Mr. Malierton ? ' rather as if he did not quite expect
II
98 AX AMl'JdCAX GIRL IX lOXDOX
to be spoken to in an elevator by a young latly. !Miss
Wick ! ' he said, and we sliook hands as the old soldier let us
out. ' How very odd ! I was ou the point of looking you up
at Lady Torquilin's. You see, I've found you out at last — no
thanks to you — after looking all over the place.'
There was a very definite reproach in this, so I told Mi*.
!Mafferton as we went down the steps that I was extremely soi ly
he had taken any trouble on my account ; that I had fully in-
tended to write to him in the course of a day or two, but hehnd
no idea how much time it took up getting settled in a flat
where the elevator ran only at stated intervals. ' But,' I said,
with some curiosity, ' how did you find me out, Mr. MafTerton ? '
For if there is one interesting thing, it is to discover how
an unexpected piece of information about yourself has been
come by.
' Lady Torquilin dropped me a line,' replied !Mr. Mafferton ;
* that is, she mentioned it in — in a note yesterday. Lady Tor-
quilin,' Llr. INfaft'erton went on, ' is a very old Iriend of mine —
and an iiwfullv o-ocd sort, as I daresav von are beo-inninof to
fmd out.'
By this time we had reached the pavement, and were stand-
ing in everybody's way, with the painful indetermination tliut
attacks people wdio are not quite sure whether they ought to
separate or not. ' 'Ansom cab, sir ? ' asked one of the porters.
* No ! ' said Mr. Mafferton. ' I was on the very point,' he
vrenton to me, dodging a boy with a bandbox, * of going toolfei'
my services as cicerone this afternoon, if you and Lady Torquilin I
would be good enough to accept them.' I
* 'Ansom cab, sir?' asked another porter, as Mr. Mafferton, L
getting out of the way of a resplendent footman, upset a small
child with a topheavy bonnet, belonging to the lady whc »
1
AX AMERICAN GIRL /X LONDON
99
belonged to the footman. ' iVt* ! ' said Mr. ]\rafferton, in quite
a temper. ' Sliall wo get, out of this?' he asked )iio, appeal-
iiigly ; and we
walked on in the
direction of the
Houses of Parlia-
ment,
' There's no-
thing on in par-
ticular, that I know
of,' lie continued ;
' but there are
always the stock
shows, and Lady
Torquilin is up to
any amount of
sight-seeing, I
know.'
' She isn't to-
■ day, Mr. Mafferton. She's lying down. I did my best to
persuade her to come out with me, and she wouldn't. But I'm
going sight-seeing this very minute, and if you would like to
come too, I'm sure I shall be very glad.'
Mr. Mafferton looked a little uncomfortable. 'Where were
you thinking of going ? ' he asked.
' To ]\[adame Tussaud's,' I said. ' You go by the Under-
! ground Railway from here. Get in at St. James's Park Station,
J and out at Baker Street Station — about twenty-five minutes in
ithe cars. And you are not,' I said, remembering what I had
UPSET A CHILD WITn A TOPIIEAM- BONNET
1
c \
I been told, ' under any consideration whatever, to get in or out
of the train while it is moving.'
II 2
ICO ylX AMERICAN CJRL IX LOXDON
^Iy. ^rafrortou laiiglieLl. ' liiuly TorqiiiJiii lias been coaclilni.
yon,' he said : but he still 1< oked nnconifortable, and thinking'
he felt, perhaps, like an iiitnuler npon my plans, and wishing to
put him at his ea«o, I said: 'iL would really be very kind ot
yon to come, ^Ir. ^laflerton, for even at school I never coiiUl
remember English history, and now I've probably got your
dynasties worse mixed up llian ever. It would be a great
advantajre to pfo with somebodv who knows all the dates, and
which kings usurped their thrones, and who they properly,
Ijelonged to.'
lAv. Mafferton laughed again. 'I hope you don't expect ;i'.'.
that of me,' he said. ' But if you are quite sure we couldii'i,
rout Lady Torquilin out, I will take you to ]\Iadame Tussaud':
with the greatest pleasure, Miss Wick.'
' I'm quite sure,' I told ^\\\ ]\hifFerton, cheerfully. ' Slu
siud all those wax people, with their idiotic expressions, tlii
afternoon would simply finish her up ! ' — and ]\rr. ^lafferton sai
Lady Torquilin put things very quaintly, didn't she? And w
went togetlier into one of those great cchoiuf? caverns in tli
sides of the streets that led down flights of dirty steps, past lli
man who punches the tickets, and widen out into that border c
desolation with a fierce star burning and brightening in tl:
blackness of the farther end, which is a platform of the Under-
ground IJailwav.
' This,' said I to ^Fr. ^^dafferton as we wallced up and dow:
svaiting for our train, 'is one of the things I particularly want
ci
to see.' •
''^i
Tlie penny weighing-machine ? ' asked ^Iv. ]\ratferionj fci' .i«
had stopped to look at that.
'The whole thing,' said T — ' the Underground svstem. llir
this is interesting in itself,' I added, putting a penny in, (nui-;
PLEASli HULK !.IY I'.VnASOL, MK. MAFFKUTON, TII.VT I M.W GET; iUti. EKAQi
TRUTH FOn ?IY Pf:NNY " '
102 JX AMERICAX GIRL IN LOXDON
sfepping on tlir* inacliino, ' Please hold iny parasol, ^Tr.
3rattl'rton, so that 1 may get the exact truth for iny penny.'
Mr. JSIafierton took the parasol with n slightly clouded
expression, whicli deepened when one of two gentlemen who
had just come on the platform bowed to liim. 'I think, if you
don't mind, !Miss Wick, we liad better go fartlier along the
l)latform — it will be easier to get the carriage,' lie said, in a
manner which quite dashed my amiable intention of telling him
how even the truth was cheaper in this country than in America,
for our weighing-machines wouldn't work for less than a
nickel, which was twice and a-half as much as a penny.
Just then, however, the train came whizzing in, we bundled
ourselves into a compartment, the door banged after us with
frightful explosiveness — the Underground bang is a thing whieli
I should think the omnibus companies had great cause to be
thankful for — and we went with a scream and u rush into tln'
black unknown. It seemed to me in the first few niinutes that
life as I had been accustomed to it had lapsed, and that a sort
of semi-conscious existence was filling up the gap betweer.
what had been before and what would be again. I can"t say I
fuund this phase of being agreeable. It occurred to me tlia
my eyes and my ears and my lungs might just as well hav'
been left at home. The only organ that found any occupatio:
was my nose — all sense seemed concentrated in that sharj)
edged, objectionable smell. 'What do you think of the Under
ground ?' said ]\rr. MafFerton, leaning across, above the rattK
I told him I hadn't had time to analyse my impressions, in
series of shrieks, and subsided to watch for the greyness of tli
next station. After that had passed, and I was convinced th;
there were places where you could escape to the light and a
of the outside world again, I asked Mr, Maffertoo a, number
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
103
questions about tin.' railway, and in answerin<jf tlirni lie sai<l tlio
first irritaHiiLT thin<,' 1 hoard in Knglanil. ' 1 hop*',' he rcnuuked,
'that your intin-est in the Under^n-ouJid won't take you all tho
way round the Circle to see what it's like.'
^"-rr~-*-' - ' -
"MVH.VT DO YOU TIIIN'K OF THE UNDKRGROUKD ? " '
' Wliy do you hope that, IMr. ^Maffcrton ? ' I said. ' Is it
dangerous ? '
' Not in the least,' he returned, a little confiie edly. ' Only
— most Americans like to " make the entire circuit,'' I helieve.'
' I've ne doubt they want to see how bad it can be,' I said,
* We are a very fair nation, Mr. MafFerton. But though I can't
104 ^^ AMERICAN GIRL IX I.OXDOM
nndiTjit. 111(1 your liopo in tlio innttcr, I tloii't, think it likely T
sh.'ill tnivcl by I'ndi'rjj^ronnd any nioi'o than I can liclp.'
l^ccauso, for Iho nioniont, I Iblt an aniiovmice. AVhv should
^Ir. ^rafferton ' hope' about my conduct? — !Mr. ^rafferton wa.<
not my maiden aunt ! Ihit Ik^ very politely asked mo liow I
thou<^ht it comi);u'ed with the Elevated in New York, and I was
obliged to tell him that I really didn't think it compared at all.
The Elevated was ujjfly to look at, and some people found it
^•iddy to ride on, but it took yon throuj^h the best quality of air
and sunlight the entire distance; and if anythiui^ happened, at
a'l events you could see what it was. Mr. ^Mafferton replied that
he thought he preferred the darkness to looking through other
people's windows ; and this preference of ^Nfr. jNIafferton's struck
me later as being intL'restingly English. And after that we both
lapsed into meditation, and I thought about old London, with
its Abbey, and its Tower, and its Houses of Parliament, and its
]>hiecoat boys, and its monuments, and its ten thousand hansom
cabs, lying just over my head ; and an odd, pleasurable sensation
of nndermining the centuries and playing a trick with history
almost superseded the Underground smell. The more I thought
about it, and about what Mr. Maftertcn had said, the more I
liked that feeling of taking an enormous liberty with London,
nnd by the time wo ri^ached Baker Street Station I was able to
say to Mr. Mafferton, with a clear conscience, in spite of my
smuts and half-torpid state of mind, that on consideration I
thought I icoidd like to compass London by the Underground —
to ' make the entire circuit,'
AN AMERICAX CJRL L\ LOXDON
105
X
TT struck mo, from tlio
.L outsRle, as oddly ini-
posinu; — Madame Tussaiid's.
Parlly, T suppose, l)ecauso
it is ahvnvs more or less
treated jocosely, ])arlly
because of the homely little
familiar name, and partly
because a person's expecta-
tions of a waxwork show
are naturally not very loflv.
I was looking out ior
anytlnng but a swelling
dome and a flag, and the
liinh brick walls of an in-
stitution. There seemed a
grotcsqueness of dignity
about it, which was empha-
. Bised by the solemn man at the turnstile who took the shillingii
and let us through, and by the spaciousness inside — empha-
sised so much that it disappeared, so to speak, and I found
myself taking the place quite seriously — the gentleman in
■ tin on the charger in the main hall below, and the wide
*" jiif^rble stairs, and the urns in the corner^; and the oil paiiU-
io6 A A' AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
inofs on the laii(llni>'s, uirI cvcrvtliiiifr. I befj^an askin"f Mr.
Mafterton questions immediately, quite in the subdued voice
j)eople use under impressive circumstances ; but lie wasn't certain
who tlio arcliitect was, and couldn't sav where the niarblo
came from, and really didn't l:now how many years the wax-
works had been in existence, and hadn't the least idea what the
gross receipts were per anninn — did not, in fact, seem to think
lie ought to be expected to be acquainted with these matters.
The only thing he could tell me definitely was that ^Sfadame
Tussaud was dead — and I knew that myself. ' Upon my word,
you know,' said Mr. ]\Iairertc»n, ' I liaven't been here since I
was put into knickers ! ' I was surprised at this remark when
I heard it, for ]\[r. ^NTallerton was usually eh^gant to a degree in
his choice of terms ; but I should not be now. I have found
nothing plainer in England than the language. Its simplicity
and directness are a little startling at first, perhaps, to the
foreign ear; but this soon wears off as you become accustomed
to it, and I dare say the foreigner begins to talk the same way —
in which case my speech will probably be a matter of grave
consideration to me when I get back to Chicago. In America
we usually put things in a manner somewhat more involved.
Yes, I know you are <^!;inking of the old story about Americans
draping the legs of their pianos ; Ijut if I were you I Avould
discount that story. Tor my own part, I never in my life saw
it done.
The moment we were inside the main hall, where the
orchestra was playing, before I had time to say more than ' How
very interesting, Mr. Mafferton ! AVlio is that? and w^'v is hi
famous?' Mr. Mafferton bought one of the red and^gilt and
green catalogues from the young woman at the door, and put it
into my hand almost impulsively.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 107
*I fiiiicy they're very complete — and reliable, ^liss Wick,'
he said. ' You — you really mustn't depend upon me. It's such
an unconscionable time since I left school.'
I told Mr. ]\[afferton I was sure that was only his modest
way of putting it, and that I knew he had reams of l']nglish
history in his head if he would only just think of it; and he
replied, * No, really, upon my word, I have not ! ' But by
that time I realised that 1 was in the immediate society of all ^le
remarkable old kings and queens of England ; and the emotions
they inspired, standing round in that promiscuous touchable
way, with their crowns on, occupied me so fully, that for at least
ten minutes I found it quite interesting enough to look at them
in silence. So I sat down on one of the seats in the middle of
the hall, where people were listening to the orchestra's selections
from ' The Gondoliers,' and gave myself up to the curious captiva-
tion of the impression. ' It's not bad,' said ^\v. ^laflerton,
reflectively, a little way off. ' No,' I said, ' it's beautiful ! ' But
' I think he meant the selections, and I meant the kiuofs and
; queens, to whom he was not paying the slightest attention.
But I did not find fault with him for that — ho had been, in a
manner, brought up amongst these things ; he lived in a country
', that always had a king or queen of some sort to rule over it ; he
was used to crowns and sceptres. He could not possibly have
the same feelings as a person born in Chicago, and reared upon
I Ilepublican principles. But to me those quaint groups of
royalties in the robes and jewels of other tiiues, and arrayed just
as much in their characters as in their clothes — the characters
everybody knows them by — were a source of pure and, while I
sat there, increasing delight. I don't mind confessing that I
like the kings and queens at !\[adame Tussaud's better than any-
thing else I'v^ seen in England, ^t tho risk of being considered
io8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
a pcr-ion of lo'.v intelligence. I know lliat Mr. James Russell
Lowell — whom poppa alwaj's used to say he was proud to claim
as a fellow-countryman, until he went Mugwump when Cleveland
was elected — said of them that they were ' much like any other
]']nglish party ' ; but I should think from that that Mr. Lowell
was perhaps a little prejudiced against waxworks, and intolerant
of the form of art which they represent ; or, possibly, when he
said it he had just come to London, and had not attended many
English parties. For it seems to me that the peculiar charm
and interest of the ladies and gentlemen at Madame Tussaud's
is the ingenuous earnestness with which they show you their
temperaments and tastes and dispositions, which I have not
found especially characteristic of other English ladies and gentle-
men. As Lady Torquilin says, how^ever, ' that's as it may be.'
All I know is, that whatever Mr. LoAvell, from his lofty Harvard
standard of culture, may find to say in deprecation of all that is
left of your early sovereigns, I, from my humble Chicago point
of view, was immensely pleased with them. I could not get
over the feeling — I have not got over it yet — that they were, or
at any rate had once been, veritable kings and queens. I had
a sentiment of respect ; I could not think of them, as I told Mr.
Mafferton, ' as wax ' ; and it never occurred to me that the crowns
were brass and the jewels glass. Even now I find that an
unpleasant reflection ; and I would not go back to Madame
Tussaud's on any account, for fear the brassiness of the crowns
and the glassiness of the jewels might obtrude themselves the
S3Cond time, and spoil the illusion. English history, with its
moated castles, and knights in armour, and tyrant kings and
virtuous queens, had always seemed more or less of a fairy tale to
me — it is difficult to believe in medioDval romance in America —
and there, about me, was the fiiirv talc realised ; all the curious
AN AMKRICAX GIRL fX LOXDOX 109
old people who tliccl of a ' surfeit of lampreys,' or of a bad
temper, or of decapitation, or in other ways which would bo
considered eccentric now, in all their dear old folds and fashions,
red and blue and gold and ermine, with their crowns on !
There was a sociability among them, too, that I thought inte-
resting, and that struck me as a thing I shouldn't have expected,
some of their characters being so very good, and some so very
bad ; but I suppose, being all kings and cpieens, any other
distinction would be considered invidious. I Icjoked up while I
was thinkinof about them, and cauy^ht ^\\\ ^lafferton yawning.
' Are you impressed?' he said, disguising it with a smile.
' Very much,' I answered him. ' In a way. Aren't you ? '
'I think they're imbecile,' said Mr. jSIafferton. ' Indjecile
old Things ! I have been wondering what they could possibly
suggest to you.'
Mr. Mafferton certainly spoke in that way. I remember it
distinctly. Because I depended upon it in taking, as we went
i- round, a certain freedom of criticism — depended upon it, 1 had
■ reason to believe afterwards, unwarrantablv.
■; ' Let ns look at them individually,' I said, rising. ' Collec-
\ tively, I find them lovable.'
'Well, now, I envy them!' replied ^fr. ;^^afferton, with
I great coolness. This was surprisingly frivolous in jMr.
* ^lafFerton, who was usually quite whai^ would be called a serious
person, and just for a minute I did not quite know wdiat to say.
Then I laughed a little frivolously too. ' I suppose you intend
that for a compliment, ^Fr. ^lafferton,' I said. Privately, I
thought it very clumsy. ' This is Number One, I think ' — and
we stopped before William the Conqueror asking Matilda of
Flanders to sit down.
'I don't know that I did,' said INfr. ^FafTerton — which made
110 AX AMERICAX Gini IX LOXDOX
the situation awkwiircl for me ; for if there is an uncomfortable
thing, it is to appropriate a compliment which was not intended.
An Englishman is a being absolutely devoid of tact.
'So this is AVilliam the Conqueror?' I said, byway of
changing the subject.
' It may bo a little like his clothes,' said ]Mr, Mafferton,
iudifferently.
' Oh ! don't say that, ]\[r. Mafferton. I m sure he looks every
inch a AVilliam the Conqueror ! See how polite he is to his wife,
too — I suppose that's because he's French ? '
Mr. ]\IafFerton didn't say anything, and it occurred to me
that perhaps 1 had not expressed myself well.
' Do you notice,' I went on, ' how he wears his crown — all
tipped to one side ? He reminds me just a little, Mr. jNEafferton,
with that type of face — enterprising, you know — and hair that
h^ngth, only it ought to be dark, and if the crown were only a
wide-brimmed, soft felt hat — he reminds me venj much of those
Californian ranchers and miners Bret Harte and Joaquin Miller
v/rite about.'
' Do yon mean cowboys ? ' asked Mr. IMafferton, in a vray
that told me he wasn't going to agree with me.
' Yes, that kind of person. I think William the Conqueror
would make a beautiful cowboy — a regular "Terror of the
Can von." '
' Can't sny I see it,' said Mr. Mafferton, fixing his eye upon
the bass 'cello at the other end of the room.
' It isn't in that direction,' I said, and Mr. Mafferton became
exceedingly red. Then it occurred to me that possibly over
here that might be considered impertinent, so I did my best to
make up for it. ' A very nice face, isn't it ? ' I went on.
' What is he particularly noted for, Mr. Mafferton, besides the
" so Tllld 13 WILLIAJI THE CONQUEUOU ! " '
112 AX A. U ERIC AX GIRL IX LOXPOX
Curfew, and tlie Doomsday Book, and introducing old families
into England ? '
Mr. Maffcrton Lit Lis moustaclic. I had never seen any-
body bite liis moustache before, though I had always understood
from novels that it was done in England. Whether American
gentlemen have better temper.^, or whether they are afraid t)f
injuring it, or why the habit is not a common one with us, I am
unable to say.
' Really, !Miss AVick,' ^[r. ^fafferton responded, with six
degrees of frost, ' I — is there nothing about it in the cata-
logue? lie established the only date which would ever stick
in my memory — lOOG. But you nnistn't think he brought all
the old families \v England over with him, ]\Iiss Wick — it is
incorrect.'
' I daresay,' I said ; ' people get such curious ideas about
England in America, ^Ir. ]\[afferton.' But that did not seem to
please ]\[r. JNIafferton either. ' I think they ought to know,' he
said, so seriously that I did not like to retaliate with any
English misconceptions of American matters. And from what
I know of ]\[r. Mafferton now, I do not think he would have seen
the slightest parallel.
' How this brings it all back,' I said, as we looked at
AVilliam the Second, surnamed llufus, in blue and yellow, with
a plain front — 'the marks in history at school, and the dates let
in at the sides of the pages ! " His dead body, witli an
arrow sticking in it, was found by Purkiss, a charcoal-burner,
and carried in a cart to Winchester, where it was buried in the
Cathedral.'' I remember I used to torment myself by wonderini'-
whether they pulled the arrow out, because in my history ic
didn't say they did.'
' It's a fact,' said Mr. Mafferton ; ' one always does think of
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 113
the oltl cliaj) with the arrow sticking in Iiim. Burne-Jones or
one of those fellows ought to paint it — the forest, you know,
twilight, and the charcoal-burner in a state of funk. Tremen-
dously effective— though, I daretiay, it's been done scores of
times.'
* And sold to be lithographed in advertisements ! ' I added.
*Ah, Miss AVick, that is the utilitarian American way of
looking at things ! ' Mr. ]\[aflerton remarked, jocularly ; and I
don't think I could have been expected to refrain from telling
him that I had in mind a certain soap not manufactured in
America.
When we got as for as ITenry the Second, Curtmantle,
whom ^[adanie Tussaud describes as a ' wise and good king,'
and who certainly has an amiable, open countenance, I noticed
that all the crowns were dillerent, and asked i\Ir. ^^fafferton
about it — whether at tliat time every king had his crown made
to order, and trimmed according to his own ideas, or had to
take whatever crown was going ; and whether it was his to do as
he liked with, or went with the throne ; and if the majority of the
kings had behaved properly about their crowns, and where they
all were. But if Mr. ]\ratrerton knew, he chose to be equivocal
,,' — he did not give me any answer that I feel I could rely upon
sufficiently to put into print. Then we passed that nice
brave crusading Richard the First, surnained Occur de Lion, in
sorae domestic argument with his sweet Berengaria ; and Mr.
Mafferton, talking about her, used the expression, ' Fair flower
of Navarre.' But at that time he was carrying the catalogue.
King John I thought delightful ; I could not have believed
it possible to put such a thoroughly bad temper into wax, and I
t>aid so to ]\Ir. !Maflerton, who agreed with me, though without
enthusiasm. 'The worst king who ever sat on the English
I
114 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON '
throne ! ' I repeated, meditatively, quoting from Madame '
Tussaud — 'that's saying a great deal, isn't it, Mr. Mafferton?' ■
My escort said No, he couldn't say he thought it represented
such an acme of wickedness, and wo walked on, past swarthy '
little sad Charles the Second, in armour and lace, who looks—
and how could he help it ? — as if ho were always thinking of what '
happened to his sire — I suppose the expression ' poppa ' is un-
known among royalties. Mr. Mafferton would not agree to this
either ; he seemed to have made up his mind not to agree to
anything further.
I should like to write a whole chapter about Henry the
Eighth as he looked that day, though I daresay it is an
habitual expression, and you may have seen it often yourself,
He was standing in the midst of a group of ladies, includini'
some of his wives, stepping forward in an impulsive, emotional
way, listening, with grief in both his eyes, to the orchestras
rendition of
Bury I Bury ! Let the grave close o'er,
as if deeply deprecating the painful necessity of again becomiiiL'
a widower. It was beautiful to see the way the music worked
upon his feelings. It will be impossible for me ever to think 1
so badly of him again.
* What is your impression of liim ? ' asked Mr. Mafferton.
I said I thought he was too funny for words.
' He was a monster ! ' my friend remarked, ' and you are ^ -
quite the first person, I should say, who has ever discovered
anything humorous in him.' And I gathered from i\[r
Mafferton's tone that, while it was pardonable to think badly c:
an English monarch, it was improper to a degree to find \m.
amusing.
Then T observed that they were all listening with Henry tlic
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 115
Eighth — Philippa of Hainault with her pink nose, and the
Bhick Prince in mail, and Catharine of Arragon embracing lier
monkey, and Cardinal Wolsoy in red, and Caxton in black, and
Chaucer in poet's grey, listening intently — you could tell even
by their reflections in the glass — as the orchestra went on —
The days that have been, and never shall be more !
Personally, I felt sorry for them all, even for that old maid in
armour, James the Second. Mr. Mafferton, by the way, could
see nothing in the least old-maidish about this sovereign.
They must have had, as a rule, such a very good time while
it lasted — it must have been so thoroughly disagreeable to die !
I wanted immensely to ask ]\[r. Mafferton — but somehow his
manner did not encourage me to do it — whether in those very
I early times kings were able to wear their crowns eveiy day
without exciting comment, as ^ladame Tussaud distinctly gives
± you the idea that they did. And it seemed to me that in those
I days it must have been really worth while to be a king, and be
I different from other people, in both dress and deportment. I
would not go through the other rooms, because I did not believe
^ anything could be more beautiful than the remains of your
early sovereigns, and, moreover, INIr. Mafferton was getting so
very nearly sulky that I thought I had better not. But just
through the door I caught a glimpse of one or two American
Presidents in black, with white ties. They had intelligent faces,
but beside your Plantagenets I don't mind confessing they didn't
look anything !
I 2
ii6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
XI
IILVD not the lea.st expectjition of lu'Ing fortunate enougli to
see your Parliament open, liaving always liearcl that all tlio
peeresses wanted to go on that occasion, and knowing how littli'
sitting accommodation you had for anyl)ody. Americans find
nothing more impressive in l']ngland than the difiiculty of gel-
ting a look at your system of government — our own is so veiy
accessible to everyone who chooses to study it, and to come and
sit in the general gallery of the House of Congress or the Senate
without making a disturbance. 'Jdie thing an American tells
first, and with most pride, when he comes home after visit iuL,^
England, is that he has attended a sitting of Parliament and
seen Mr. Gladstone; if he has heard your veteran politician
Fpeak, he is prouder still. So I had cherished the hope of somi^-
how getting into the House while ]\irliament was in session, and
seeing all the people we read so much about at home in connec-
tion with the Irish Question — it was the thing, I believe, I had
set my heart upon doing most ; but tickets for the opening of
Parliament from ]\lr. jSratferton, with a note informing? Ladv I
Torquilin that his cousin had promised to look after us on the
occasion, represented more than my highest aspiration.
Lady Torquilin was pleased, too, though 1 don't think slic
intended to express her pleasure when she said, with an air of
philosophical acceptance of whatever Fate might send, ' Provi-
AX AMERICAN GIRL L\ I. OX DON 117
tlonco only knows, ni}' dear, liow the old iimii will bcliaN'e ! Ho
rtm\j be as atrroealjle as possible — as nicrrv as a grig — and he
may be in a temper like the '; and Lady Toniiiilin com-
pressed lier lips and nodded her head in a way that toKl nie how
h(>r remark wonld tinisli if slie were not a iiieiidier of the Chnrch
of England, I'alher low, and a benel'actor to deep-sea iishermen
and J)r. IJarnardo, with a strong objection to tobacco in any
form. ' AV'emnst avoid subjects that are likely to provoke him :
local self-government for Ireland has given him apoj)lexy
twice; I've heard of his getting awful tantrums about this last
Licensing Bill ; and marriage with a deceased wife's sister, I
know, is a thing to avoid !'
Then it dawned npon mo that this was Mr. ^Nfafferton's
cousin, who was a lord, and I had a very great private satisfac-
tion that I should see what he was like.
' I remember ' I said. 'This is the cousin that vou said was
an old '
■: 'Brute!' Lady 'J'orquilin finished tor me, seeing that I
I,
' didn't quite like to. ' So he is, when he's in a rage ! I wouldn't
', be Lady ^Mafferton, poor dear, for .so)»ething! An ordinary
"K" and an ordinary temper for me!' I asked Lady Tor-
quilin what she meant by ' an ordinary K ' ; and in the next half-
hour I got a lesson on the various distinctions of the English
aristocracy that interested me extremely. Lady 'j'orquilin's ' K,'
I may say, while I am talking about it, was the ' C.^LU.' kind,
and not the ' K ' sometimes conferred late in life upon illustrious
butchers. Lady Torquilin didn't seem to think much of this
kind of ' K,' but I was glad to hear of it. It must be a great
encouragement to honesty and industry in the humbler walks of
life, or, as you would say, among the masses; and though, I
suppose, it wouldn't exactly accord with our theory of govern-
ii8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
iiient, I am sorry we liave nothing even remotely like it in
America.
It was a nice day, a lovely day, an extraordinary day, tlio
February day Lady '^roninilin and I compromised upon a hansom
and drove to the Parliament buildings. A person has such a
vivid, distinct recollection of nice days in London ! The drive
knocked another of my preconceived ideas to pieces — the idea
that Westminster was some distance off, and would have to be
reached by train — not quite so far, perhaps, as Washington is
from New York, for that would just as likely as not put it in
the sea, but a considerable distance. I su])pose you will think
that inexcusable; but it is very difficult to be enough interested
in foreign capitals to verify vague impressions about them, and
Westminster is a large-soiniding name, that suggests at least a
mayor and a town council of its own. It was odd to find i'c
about twenty minutes from anywhere in London, and not t>)
know exactly when you had arrived until the cab rolled under
the shadow of the Abbey, and stopped in the crowd that waited
to cheer the great politicians. Lady TorquiUn immediately
asked one of the policemen which way to go — I don't know any-
body who appreciates what you might call the encyclopa)dic
value of the London police more that Lady Torquilin — and ho
waved us on. * Straight ahead, madame, and turn in at the
'orseback statyou,' he said, genially, the distance being not more
than two hundred yards from wliere we stood, and the turning-
in point visible. On the way, notwithstanding. Lady Tor-
quilin asked two other policemen. My friend loves the peace of
mind that follows absolute certainty. Presently we were fol-
lowing the rustling elegance of two or three tall ladies, whom I
at once pronounced to be peeresses, through the broad, quiet,
red corridor that leads to the House of Lords.
AX AM ERIC AX GIRL IX I.OXDOX 119
1 We were nmong tho very first, and Imd our clioice of the
long, narrow seats that run alon<( tlie wall in a terrace on each
sitle of the Chainher. Fortunately, Lady 'lorquilin had attended
other o|HMiin<,'s of Parliament, and knew that we must sit on tho
left; otherwise wo might just as likely as not have taken our
places on the other side, where there were only two or three old
gentlemen with sticks and silk hats — which, I reflected after-
wards, would have Ijeeu awful. But, as it Iiappened, we sat down
"very decorously in our proper places, and I tried to realise, as wo
looked at the crowded galleries and tho long, narrow, solemn
crimson room with the throne-chair at one end, that I was in
the British House of Lords. Our Senate, just before the open-
ing of Congress, is so very different, ^^fost of the senators are
grey-haired, and many of them are bald, but they all walk about
quite nimbly, and talk before tho proceedings begin with a
certain vivacity; and there arc pages running round with notes
•and documents, and a great many excited groups in the lobbies,
and a general air of crisp business and alacrity everywhere. Tho
only thing I could feel in the House of Lords that morning
was a concentrated atmospheric essence of Importance. I
jwas thinking of a thing Senator Ingalls said to me two years
fgo, which was what you would call ' comic,' when the idea
truck me that it was almost time for Parliament to open,
land not a single peer had arrived. So I asked Lady Torquilin
Iwheu the lords might be expected to come in. Up to this
'time we had been discussing the nuUinerv by which we were
surrounded.
I ' I daresay there won't be many to-day,' said Lady Torquilin.
i ' Certainly very few so far ! '
I ' Are there any here ? ' I asked her.
' Oh, yes — just opposite, don't you see, child ! That well-
120 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
set-up man with the nice, wholesome face, tlie tliird from tlie
end in the second row from the bottom — that's Lord Roseberv ;
and next him is the great beer-man — I forget his title ; and
here is Lord Mafferton now — don't look — coming into the first
row from the bottom, and leaning over to shake hands with
Lord Roseberv.'
'Tell me when I can look,' I s:ii(l, 'because I want In
awfully. But, Lady Torquilin, are iluj^e peers? They lo( k
very respectable and nice, I'm t-ure, but I did expect more in
the way of clothes. AVhere are their flowing mantles, and their
cluiins and swords and things ? '
' Only when the Queen opens Parliament in person,' said
Lady Torquilin. ' Then there Ix a turn-out ! Now you can
look i.t Lord Mafferton — the rude old man! Fancy his haviuLr
the im.pudence to sit there with his hat on !'
I looked at Lord ^Malferton, who certainly had not removed
his hat — the large, round, shiny s"'k hat worn by every gentle-
man in England, and every commercial traveller in America,
Under the hat he was very pink and fat, with rather a snubbv
nose, and little twinklin'j: blue eves, and a suofofestion of white
A/hi 4:er about the place where his chin and his cheek disap-
peared into his neck. He wore lavender-kid gloves, and was
inclined to corpulency. I should not have trusted this descrip-
tion of a peer of your realm if it had come from any other
American pen than my own — I should have set it down as a
gross exaggeration, due to env^", from the fact that we can neither
produce p.^ers in our own country nor keep them there for any
length of time ; but I was obliged to believe my own eyes, and
that is the way they reported Lord Mafferton from the other side
of your Upper House. There were other gentlemen in the rows
opposite — gentlemen all in black, and gentlemen in light waist-
Ay AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON \2\
ccats, bearded and clean-shaven, most of them elderly, but a few
surprisingly middle-aged — for your natural expectation is to see
a peer venerable — but I must say there was not one that I
would have picked out to be a peer, for any particular i-eason,
in the street. And it seemed to me that, since they are consti-
tutional, as it were, there ought to be some way of knowing
them. I reasoned again, however, that perhaps my lack of dis-
crimination was due to my not being accustomed to seeing peers
— thiit possibly the delicate distinctions and values that make
up a peer would bo perfectly evident to a person born, so to
speak, under the shadow of the aristocracy. And in the mean-
time the proceedings began by everybody standing up. I don't
know whether I actually expected a procession and a band, but
when I discovered that we were all standinijf while four or five
gentlemen in red gowns walked to the other end of the room
and took chairs, my emotions were those of blank surprise.
PresenMy I felt Lady Torquilin give an emphatic tug to my
skirt, 'Sit down, child! ' she said. ' Everybody else has! Do
you want to make a speech ? ' — and I sat down quickly. Then I
observed that a gentleman in black, also in fancy dress, was
reading something indistinctly to the four or five red-gowned
gentlemen, who looked very solemn and stately, but said nothing.
It was so difficult for a stranger to understand, that I did not
quite catch what was said to another gentleman in black with
buckled shoes, but it must have been to the purport of 'Go and
fetch it!' for he suddenly began to walk out backwards, stop-
ping at every few steps to bow with great deference to them of
the red gowns, which must have been very trying, for nobody
returned the bows, and he never could tell who might have
come in behind him. ' I suppose he has gone out for a minnte
to get something,' I said to Lady Torquilin ; and tlien she told
122 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
me what, of course, I ought to have known if I had refreshed
myself with a little English history before starting — that he was
the Usher of the Black Rod, and had been sent to bring the
members of the other Parliament. And presently there was a
great sound of footsteps in the corridors outside, and your House
of Commons came hurrying to the ' bar,' I believe it is called, of
your House of Lords. It was wonderfully interesting to look at,
to a stranger, that crowd of members of your Lower House as it
came, without ceremony, ro the slender brass rod and stopped
there, because it could come no farther — pressing against it,
laying hands upon it, craning over it, and yet held back by the
visible and invisible force of it. Compared with the well-fed
and well-groomed old gentlemen who sat comfortably inside,
these outsiders looked lean and unkempt ; but there were so
many of them, and they seemed so much more in earnest than
the old gentlemen on the benches, that the power of the brass
rod seemed to me extraordinary. I should not have been an
American if I had not wondered at it, and whether the peers in
mufti would not some dav be obliged to make a habit of dressinr;
lip in their mantles and insignia on these occasions to impress
the Commoners properly with a sense of difference and a reason
for their staying outside.
Then, as soon as they were all ready to pay attention, the
Yice-Chancellor read the Queen's letter, in which Her Majesty,
BO far as I could understand, regretted her inability to be
present, told them all a good deal about what she had been doing
since she wrote last, and closed by sending her kind regards and
best wishes — a very pleasant letter, I thought, and well-written.
Then we all stood up again while the gentlemen in red, the Lord
Chancellor, and the others walked out ; after which everybody
dispersed, and I found myself shaking hands with Lord Maffer-
A.V AMERICAS GIRL IX LOXDOX
123
ton in a pmluy. hearty way, a> lio ami f,:i(ly 'roivjuilin and I
(lopartod tog'etlier.
'So tliis is our littlo Vankoo ! ' saitl Lord Martcrtoii. 'with
]iis fat round chin stretched out sidewavs, and liis liands behind
his back. Now I am (pute iive-leet eight, and I do not liko
being called names,
but I found a diffi-
culty in telling
Lord ]\rafFertou
that T was not their
little \'ankee; so I
^
'i>:>>
nnir.
smiled, and said
notl
well ! r*omo over
the " duckpond"'
— isn't that what
you call the tlan-
tic Ocean ? — to see
how fast old Eng-
land is going to
pieces, eh ? '
' Oh ! " saiu Lady Torquilin, ' I think ^liss Wick is delighted
with England, Lord Mafferton.'
' Yes,' I said, ' I am. Delighted with it ! AVliy should anj'-
body think it is going to pieces ? '
'Oh, it's a popular fancy in some quarters,* said Lord
__-_^-J
LORD M.VFFKUTnX.
124 ^A' AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
JSraffbrton. Being a lord, I don't suppose he winked at Lady
Torqnilin, but lie did sometliing very like it.
'I should call it a popular fallacy,' I declared; at which
Lord ^MafFerton laughed, and said, 'It was all very well, it was
all very well,' exactly like any old grandpapa. '^li&s Wicl;
would like a look over the place, I suppose,' he said to Lady
Torqnilin. ' You think it would be safe, eh ? No explosives
concealed about her — she doesn't think of bhnving us up?'
And this very jocular old peer led the way through a labyrinth
of chambers and corridors of which I can't possibly remember
the locality or the purpose, because he w eut so fast.
'No doubt you've heard of Cromwell,' he said beside one
door. I should liave liked to know wliv he asked me, if there
was no doubt of it ; but 1 suppose a lord is not necessarily a
logician. 'This is tlie room in which he signed the death-
warrant of Charles the First.'
' Dear me,' I said. ' The one that he's holding a copy of
on his lap at iMadame Tussaud's ? '
' I dare say ! I dare say ! ' said Lord ^Nrafiferton. ' But not
so fast, my dear young lady, not so fast ! You mustn't go ?'»,
you know. That's not allowable! ' and he whisked us away to
tl:e Librarv. ' Of course, Miss Wick understands,' he said to Ladv
Torqnilin, ' that every w^ord spoken here above a whisper means
three days in a dungeon on bread and water ! ' By this time
my ideas of peers had become so confused that I was entirely
engaged in trying to straighten them out, and liad very little
to say of any sort ; but Lord Mafferton chatted continually as
we walked through the splendid rooms, only interrupting him-
self now and then to remind me of the dungeon and the penalty
of talking. It was very difficult getting a first impression of
the English House of Parliament and an English peer at the
A.V AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON 1:5
same time — tliey continually interrupted each otlier. It was in
the Royal Banqueting Hall, for instance, where I was doing my
best to meditate upon scenes of the past, that Lord ^fafferton
stated to Lady Torquilin his objection to the inside of an omnibus,
and this in itself was distracting. It would never occur to any-
body in America to think of a peer and an omnibus together.
The vestibule of the House of Commons was full of gentlemen
walking about and talking; but there was a great deliberateness
about the way it was done — no excitement, and every man in his
silently-expressive silk hat. Tliey all seemed interested in each
otlier in an observinor wav, too, and whether to bow or not to bow ;
and when Lord Matferton recognised any of them, he was usually
recognised back with great cordiality. You don't see so much
of tliat when Congress opens. The members in the lobby are
, usually a great deal too much wrapped up in business to take
' much notice of each other. I observed, too, that the J^ritish
Covernment does not provide cuspidores for its legislators, which
I struck me as reflecting very favourably u])on the legislative sense
I of propriety here, especially as there seemed to lo no obvious
I demand for such a thing.
'Bless you, my dear young lady, you mustn't go in there !^
exclaimed Lord ^lafferton at the door of the House, as I stepped
in to take a perfectly inoffensive hjok at it. 'Out with you
quick, or they'll have you olf to the Tower before you can say
Cieorge Washington ! '
' But why ? ' I asked, quite breathless with my sudden exit.
'Young people should m-ver a<k "why?"' Siiid Lord
iMalfcrton, serio-comicallv. 'Thank vour American stars that
t'alisbury c»r any of those IMlows were not about I'
This peer evidently thought I was very, very young — about
twelve; but I have noticed since that not only peers, but all
126
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
agivcjibk' old gciitlciiicn in England, have a Labit of dating you
back in this way. It is a kindly, well-meant attitude, but it
lea\'es }ou without \ery much to say.
' UISARKANGED MY FEATURES FOR LIFE '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
127
I thonglit feminine privileges in your House of Commons very
limited indeed then, but considerably more so when I attended a
sitting with Lady Torquilin a week later, and disarranged my
features for life trying to look through the diamonds of The iron
grating with which Parliament tries to screen itself from the
criticism of its lady relations. Lord .Arafferton cam- up that
day with us, and explained that the grating was to prevent the
ladies from throwing themselves at the heads of the unmarried
members— a singular precaution. The only other reason I could
hear why it should not be taken down was that nobody had done
it since it was put up— a remarkably British reason, and calcu-
hated, as most things seem to be in this country, to last.
And I saw your Prince that afternoon. Ho came into the
Peers' Gallery in a light overcoat, and sat down wi(h two or
three friends to watch his people governing their country below.
He seemed thoroughly interested, and at times, when 31r. O'Prien
or Mr. O'Connor said something that looked toward the dis-
memberment of his empire, amused. And it was an insfructivo
sight to see your future king pleased and edified, and unen-
cumbered by any disagreeable responsibilities, looking on.
128 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
XII
I TOLD Lady Torqnilin that the expression struck me as
profane.
' How ridiculous you are, child ! It's a good old English
word. Nol)odij will understand you if you talk about your
"rubbers" in this country. "Goloshes," certainlv. Ci-n-
1-0-s-h-e-s, "goloshes." Kow, go directly and put them on,
and don't be impertinent about the English language in Eng- ,
land, whatever you may be out of it ! ' i
I went away murmuring, ' " G-o-l-o-s-h-e-s, goloshes'"!]
What a perfectly awful — literally unutterable word ! No, I love |
Lady Torquilin, and I like her England, but I'll never, never, J
never say " goloshes " ! I'd almost rather swear ! ' And as I ^
slipped on the light, thin, flexible articles manufactured, 1 ^
believe, in Rochester, N.Y., and privately compared them with •
the remarkable objects worn by the British nation for tlif .
purpose of keeping its feet dry, the difference in the descriptive' .
terms gave me a certain satisfaction. ^
Lady Torquilin and I were going shopping. I had been j.
longing to shop in London ever since I arrived, but, as Laclv ^
Torquilin remarked^ my trunks seemed to make it almost uii- jj
reasonable. 8o up to this time I had been obliged to contend q
myself with looking at the things in the windows, until Liuly ^
Torquilin said she really couldn't spend so much time in front ^
\
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 1:9
of shop-windows — wo had better go inside. Besides, sho
argued, of course there was this to be said — if you bouglit a good
thinf, there it was — always a good thing! ' And it isn't as it
you were obliged to pincli, my dear. I would bo the last ono
to counsel extravagance,' said Lady Torquilin. ' Therefoi'o
we'll go to the cheapest place first ' — and we got an omnibus. It
seemed full of people who were all going to the cheapest i)lace,
and had already come, some of them a long way, to go to it,
judging by their fares. They were not poor people, nor
respectably-darned people, nor shabby-genteel people. Some of
them looked like people with incomes that would have enaljled
them to avoid the cheapest place, and some gave you the idea
that, if it were not for the cheapest place, they would not look
so well. But they had an invariable expression of content
■with the cheapest place, or appreciation of it, that made mo
quite certain they would all get out wdien we stopped there ;
and they did.
"We went in with a throng that divided and hurried hither
and thither through long ' departments,' upstairs and down, past
counters heaped with cheapnesses, and under billowing clouds
and streaming banners of various colours, marked Is. \]iil. and
Ikl'ld. in very black letters on a very white ground. The whole
phice spoke of its cheapness, invited you to approach and have
your every want supplied at the lowest possible scale of profit — for
cash. Even the clerks — as we say in America, incorrectly, I
believe — the people behind the counter suggested the sweet
reasonableness of thetaritf; not that I mean anything invidious,
but they seemed to be drawn from an unpretending, inexpensive
class of .humanity. The tickets claimed your attention every-
ifliere, and held it, the prices on them were so remarkably low ;
and it was to me at first a matter of regret that they were all
I30
AX AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXDOX
attached to articles I coukl not want uiuler aiiv circiinistaiices.
For, tlie moment I went in, I siiccumbctl to the clieapest place ;
I desired to avail myself of it to any extent — to get the benefit
' iiiE \viioIjE place spoke of its cheapness '
of tliose fascinating figures personally and immediately. I f< •
lowed Lady Torqnilin with eagerness, exclaiming : bnt notliiiu
would induce her to stop anywhere ; she went straight for t!;
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 131
trifles she wanted, and I jiorforce after lier. ' There are some
tilings, my dear,' she said, wlicn we reached the right counter,
' that one wn^^i conic here for, but beyond tliose few oddd and
ends — well, 1 leave you to judge for yourself.'
This was calculated to dash a person's enthusiasm, and niino
was dashed at once. There is nothing, in sliopping, like a
friend's firm and outspoken opinion, to change your views. I
began to think unfavourably of th(^ cheapest jjlace immediately,
and during the twenty-five minutes of valuable time which Lady
Torquilin spent, in addition to some small silver, upon a box of
pink paper trimmings for pudding-dishes, I had arrived at a state
of objection to the cheapest place, which intensified as we
climbed more stairs, shared more air with the I'ritish Public of
the cheapest place, and were jostled at more counters. 'For,'
Lady Torquilin said, 'now that we ^ov here, though I loatho
coming, except that its something you ought to do, we really
might as well see what there is ! " — and she found that there were
quite a number of little things at about a shilling and a ha'penny
that she absolutely needed, and would have to pay 'just douljlo
for, luy dear, anywhere else.' Jly that time my objection be-
came active^and embraced the cheapest place and everything
connected with it, quite unreasonably. For there was no doubt
about the genuineness of the values offered all over its counters
or about the fact that the clerks were doing the best they could
to sell seven separate shillings'-worth at the same moment to
different individuals, or ot the respectability of the seven people
who were spending the seven shillings. It would have been a
relief, indeed, to have detected somethinjx fraudulent amoniir the
bargains, or some very great adventuress among the customers.
, v»It was the deadly monotony of goodishness and cheapislmess in
. ■ ^everything and everybody that oppressed you. There were no
K 2
X3a AN AMERICAN GIRL /N LONDON
heights of excoUenco and no contrast i:i;^' deptlis — all one level of
quality wlicrovor you looked — so tliah tlie thinufs tlioysold attlio
cheapest place — sold with mecliaiiical respect, and as fast as they
could tie them up — seemed to lack all iiulividuality, and to have
no reason for being, except to become parcels. Tiiere was nont^
of tho exultation of barufaiu-wttiiiLr ; the bar'^ains were on a
regular system of fixed laws — tho poetic delight of an unex-
pected 'reduction' was wholly {djsent. Tho cheapest place
resolved itself into avast, well-organised Opportunity, aud inside
you saw tho British Tublic and the Opportunity together.
*" 'Ere is your chainge, madam,' said tho hollow-eyed youug
woman who had been waiting upon Lady Torquilin in the matter
of a letter-weight and a Japanese umbrella. ' Thank you,'
said Lady Torquilin. 'I'm afraid you get very tired, don't you,
before tho day is over?' my friend asked the young wonuiu,
with as sweet a smile as she could have given anybody. The
young woman smiled back again, and said, ' \'ery, madame'; but
that was all, for three other people wanted her. I put this ia
because it is one of the little things she often says that show the
niceness of Lady Torquilin.
' Now, wdiat do you think of the cheapest place ? ' asked Lad v
Torquilin as we walked together in the Edgware Road. 1 told
her as I have told you. ' H'mph ! ' said she. ' It's not a shoj)
I like myself, but that's what I call being too picksome ! Y(»;i
get what you want, and it you don't want it you leave it, and
wdiy should you care! Now, by way of variety, we'll go to the
dearest place ; ' and the omnibus we got into rattled off in the
direction of Bond Street. It struck me then, and often since,
how oddly different Jjondon is from an American city to go
shopping in. At home the large, important stores are pretty
much together, in the business part of the city, and anybody can
AN AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON \%l
tt'll IVoni the mere building's wliaf to ('.\[)ect in ilie way of style
and price. In London you can't tell at all, aiul the well-known
shops are scattojv'd o\-er srpiarc miles of streets, by twos and
threes, in little individual towns, eaeli witli its own congi-e^fat ion
of smaller shops, and its own butchers and bidders uiul news-
stands, and post-ofliee and sijuarcs and 'places,' and l)lind alleys
and strolliuiif cats and hand oi'Ljans ; and to lifet from one to
another of the litth; towns it is necessary to malv(> a journey in
an ouniibus. Of course, I know there arc a fi'W places pre-
eminent in reputation and ' form ' and ])rice — above all in ]n*ice —
which j^'ather in a few well-known streets ; but life in all theso
little centres which make up London would be quite comi)lele
without them. They seem to exist for the l)rnetlt of thai cxtra-
vagant element here that has nothing to do with t he small respect-
able houses and the little domestic squares, but hovi-rs over the
city during the time of year when the sun shines and the fogs
are not, living during that time in notable localities, under the
special inspection of the ' .Morning J\ist.' 'J'he ]X'opli^ who
nvilly live in London — the people of the little centres — can quite
Well ignore these places; they have their special shop in
Uxbridge lload or 8t. l^iuTs Churchyard, and if they tire of
their own particular local cut, they can make morning trips from
Uxbridge Road to the High Street, Kensington, or from either
to AVestbourne (jJrove. To Americans this is very novel and
amusing, and we get a great deal of extra pleasure out of shop-
ping in London in sampling, so to speak, the ditferent sub-
municipalities.
While I was thinking these things. Lady Tonpiilin poked
me with her parasol from the other end of the onmibus.
* Tell him to stop ! ' she said, and I did ; at least, the gentleman
in the corner made the request for me. That gentleman in the
134
AN AM ERIC AX GIRL IN LONDON
coriior is a featmv of your oniiilbiis pyst-oiii, I tliink. His nnii,
or his stick, or his iiiubrellii, is always at tho service of any hitly
'THAT GENTLEJIAN HT TUT: CORNKtl IS A FFATrRK OF YOUR OJIXinrS SYSTr:>r,
who waiils the bell rung. It seems to be a tluty that goes ■svltli
the corner seat, cheerfully accepted by every man that sits there.
AX AMF.RICAX CIRL L\ I.OXDOX
1J3
AVe liad ;:n'ivinl in Iniiul Street, at llio dearest place.
From wliat F^ady Toi'cjuiliu told me. T p'ailuTed tliat ]>oudStrt'et
was a reii-ular liauiil lor dearest places; but it would be iui-
possible for any straii^x'r to suppose so froui walking through it
— it is so narrow and ci'ooked and irregular, and the shops are
so comparatively insignilicant after the grand sweep of Kegent
Street and the wide varii'ty of the circuses. For oni\ I should
have thought circuses would be the best possible places for busi-
ness in London, not onlv because the address is so easilv remem-
bered, but because once you get ink) them they are so extremely
difllcult to u'et out of. However, a st ran o'er never can tell.
Inside, the dearest place was a stronger contrast to tlie
cheapest place than 1 could describe by any antithesis. There
was an exclusive emptiness al;out it that seemed to suggest a
certain temerity in coming in, and explained, considered com-
mercially, why the rare visitors should h.ave such an expensive
time of it. One or two tailor-made ladies discussed something
in low tones with an ;issistant, and Ijesido these there was no-
body but a couple of serious-minded shopwalkers, some very
elegant vounu' ladies-in-wailiuLi'. and the dnmnues that called
vour attention to the fashion-; thev were exhibilinp;. 'Jdie
dummies v.'ere headless, but nrobablv bv the varietv of tlieir
clothes thev struck vou as bein<>- reallv the onlv iiersonalities in the
shop. AVe looked at some of tlu^m before advancing far into the
august precincts of the dearest place, Jind Fady Torrpalin had a
sweeping opinion of them. ^ Jlidcjiisl 1 call them," she said;
but she said it in rather a hushed tone, quite diflerent from tho
one she would have used in the cheapest place, and I am snro
the shopwalker did not overhear. ' Fulgari .n atrocities! How
in the world people inuigine such things! And as to setting to
work to make them '
136 Ay AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
I can't say I agreed with Lady Torquilin, for there was a
distinct idea in all the dresses, and a person always respects an
idea, whether it is pretty or not ; but neither can I profess an
admiration for the fashions of the dearest place. They wciv
rather hard and unsympathetic ; they seemed to sacrifice every-
thing to he in some degree striking ; their motto seemed to \w.
' Let us achieve a difference ' — presumably from the fashions of
places that were only dear in the comparative degree. AVliile
w^e were looking at them, one of the pale young women strolled
languidly up and remarked, with an absent expression, that one j
of them was ' considered a smart little gown, moddam ! ' ' Sniiirt '
enough, I daresay,' said Lady Torquilin, with a slightly invidious |
emphasis on the adjective ; whereat the young woman said
nothing, but looked volumes of repressed astonishment at tlie
ignorance implied. Lady Torquilin went on to descrilje the kind
of dress I thought of buying.
' Certainly, moddam ! Will you take a seat, moddam ?
Something (iidie simple I think you said, moddam, and in
muslin. I'll be with you in one moment, moddam.' And tlie
young woman crawled away with the negligence that became
the dearest place. After an appreciable time she returned with
her arms full of what they used to call, so very correctly, ' fur- |
belows,' in spotted and flowered muslins.
' Dearie me ! ' said Lady Torquilin. ' That's precisely wliat
I wore when I was a girl ! ' \
* Yes, moddam ! ' said the young woman, condescending to I
the ghost of a smile. ' The old styles are all comin' in again'—
at which burst of responsiveness she suddenly brought herself
up sharply, and assumed a manner which forbade you to pre-
sume upon it.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
137
I picked up one of the garlanded muslins and asked the price
of it. It had three frills round the bottom and various irrele-
vant ribbon-bows.
' Certainlj', moddam ! One
moment, moddam ! ' as she
looked at the ticket attached.
' This one is seventeen guineas,
moddam. Silk foundation. A
Paris model, moddam, but I
dare say we could copy it for
you for less.'
Lady Torquilin and I nuido
a simultaneous movement, and
looked at each other in the
expressive way that all ladies
understand who go shopping
with each other.
'Thanks!' I said. 'It is
much too expensive for me.'
'We have notiiing of this
style under fifteen guineas,
moddam,' replied the young
woman, with a climax of weary
frigidity. ' Then, shall we go ? '
I asked Lady Torquilin — and
we went.
' Viliat a price ! ' said Lady
Torquilin, as we left the dearest
place behind us.
I said I thought it was an insult — eighty-five dollars for a
ready-made sprigged muslin dress ! — to the intelligence of the
IIIE YOrXO WO>rAN CnA\\TFr> AWAY WITH
THK NKGLIGKNCE THAT BECAME THE
DE.VIIEST PLACE '
138
AM AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
people who were expected to buy it. That, for my part, I should
feel a distinct loss of self-respect in biiyini^ anything at the
dearest place. AVliat would I be
paying for ?
' For being able to say that it
came from the dearest place,' said
Lady TorquiUn. ' But I thought
you Americans didn't mind what
anything cost.'
That misconception of Lady
Torquilin's is a popular one, and 1
was at some pains to rectify it. ' We
don't,' I said, ' if we recognise the
fairness of it ; but nobody resents
being imposed upon more than an
American, Lady 'J'orquilin. AVe
have our idiots, like other nations,
and I daresay a good many of them
come to London every year and deal
exclusively at the dearest place ; but
as a nation, though we don't scrimp,
we do like the feeling that we are
paying for value received.'
' Well,' said Lady Torquilin, ' I
believe that is the case. I know
Americans talk a great deal about
the price of things — more, I consider,
than is entertaining sometimes.' 1
said I knew they did — it was a
national fault — and what did Lady Torquilin think the dress
I had on cost, just to compare it with that muslin, ,and
•a pehson op oreat dignity
in high, black sleeves '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 139
Chicago was by no means a cheap place for anything. Lady
Torquilin said she hadn't an idea— our dollars were so difliciilt
to reckon in; but what did / think Acz-.s- came to— and not
a scrap of silk lining about it. And so the time slipped away
until we arrived in the neighbourhood of Cavendish Square,
at what Lady Torquilin called ' the happy medium,' where
the windows were tempting, and the shopwalker smiled, and
the lady-in-waiting was a person of great dignity, in high,
black sleeves, with a deliglitful French accent when she talked,
which she very seldom forgot, and only contradicted when she
said ''Ow' and ' 'elliotrope,' and where things cost just about
what they did in America. I have gone very patiently ever
since to the happy medium, partly to acquire the beautiful com-
posure of the lady-in-waiting, partly to enjoy the respect
which all Americans like so much in a well-conducted Ent^lish
shop, and partly because at the happy medium they underland
how to turn shopping into the pleasant artii>tic pastime it ought
to be, which everybody in America is in far too much of a liurry
to make a fortune and retire to do for liis customers. I am on
the most agreeable footing with the lady in the sleeves now, and
I have observed that, as our acquaintance progresses, her com-
mand of English consonantal sounds remarkiibly increases. 13 1 1
I have never been able to reconcile myself, even theoreticallv
either to the cheapest place, in the Edgware Road, or the dearest
place, in Bond Street.
140
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
'K
XIII
S a nation I can't bear 'em — indi-
vidually, I like *em faidij well,' read
out Lady Torquilin from a letter at break-
fast. ' Bless me ! ' my friend went on,
'she's talking about Americans, and she's
coming to see " your specimen " — mean-
ing you, child — this very afternoon.'
So she did. 81ie came to see me that
very afternoon — the lady who couldn't
bear us as a nation, but individually liked
US fairly well. Her name wns Corke,
and slie belonged. Lady Torquilin said, to
ihe Corkes. I heard all about her before
,she came. She was a lady of moderate
income, unmarried, about ten years older
Vf than I was. She knew all about every-
thing. ' You never saw such a reader,
my dear ! I won't say it happens often, for that it does not, but
Peter Corke has made me feel like a perfect ignoramus.'
' Tcter Corke ? ' I said, with some surprise.
' Too ridiculous, I call it ! Her proper name is Catharine
Clarissa, but she hates her proper name — sensible girl as she is
in every other way — prefers Peter ! And if she happens to take
a fancy to you, she will tell you all manner of interesting
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 141
tilings. For old holes and corners, I always say, go to Peter
Corke.'
' I'm glad,' I said, ' that she likes us, individually, fairly well
— it's the only way in which I would have any chance! JUit
she won't like niv accent.'
' If she doesn't,' Lady Torquilin said, ' I promise you she'll
tell you. And you won't mind a bit.'
AVhen Miss Corke arrived I foi'got entirely about the doubt-
fulness of her likins: me — I was too much absorbed in liking her.
She was rather a small person, with a great deal of dignity in
her shoulders and a great deal of humour in her face — the most
charminof face I have seen in Knijfland, and I can't even make
an exception in favour of the Princess of Wales. I may tell you
that she had delitrlitful twinkling brown eves, and hair a shade
darker, and the colour and health and energy that only an
English woman possesses at thirty, without being in the least
afraid that you could pick her out in the street, or anywhere —
si e would not like that — and being put in ]n-int, so that
p( ople would know her, at all ; it's a thing I wouldn't do on any
account, knowing her feelings. It is only because I am so well
convinced that I can't tell you what she was like that I try,
which you may consider a fendnine reason, if you want to.
!Miss Peter Corke's personality made you think at once of ►Santa
Claus and a profound philosopher — could you have a more dilli-
cult combination to describe than that ? AVhile you listened to
a valuable piece of advice from her lips you might be quite
certain that she had an orann^o for vou in the hand behind her
back; and however you might behave, you would get the
orange. Part of her charm was the atmosphere of gay Ijeiicfi-
cence she carried about with her, that made you want to edgo
your chair closer to wherever she was sitting ; and part of it
142 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
was the remarkable interest she had in everything that con-
cerned you — a sort of interest that made you feel as if such in-
formation as you could give about yourself was a direct and
valuable contribution to the sum of her knowledge of humanity ;
and part of it was the salutary sincerity of everything she had
to say in comment, though I ought not to forget her smile,
which was a great deal of it. T am sure I don't know why I
speak of ]\Iiss Peter Corke in the past^ tense, however. She is
not dead — or even married ; I cannot imagine a greater misfor-
tune to her large circle of friends in JiOndon.
' Tu:o lumps, please,' begged Miss Corke of me in the
midst of a succession of inquiries about Lady Torquilin's cough,
whether it could possibly be gout, or if she had been indulging
in salmon and cucumber latelv, in which case it served her
perfectly right. ' What a disappointment you are ! AVhy don't
you ask me if I like it with all the trimmings ? '
' The trimmings ? ' I repeated.
'Certainly! the sugar and milk! Fancy being obliged to
explain Americanisms to an American ! ' said Miss Corke to
Lady Torquilin.
' Is trimmings an Americanism ? ' I asked. ' I never heard
it before. liut I dare say it is an expression peculiar to Boston,
perhaps.'
• You had better not have any doubt,' said Miss Corke,
with mock ferocity, 'of anything you hear in England.'
' I've heard fixings often at home,' I declared, ' but never
trimmings.'
' Oh ! ' remarked ISIiss Corke, genially ; ' then fixings is the
correct expression.'
' I don't know,' I said, ' about its being the correct expres-
sion. Our washerwoman uses it a good deal.'
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 143
* Oh ! ' said :Mis5 Corke, witli an iiidoscribablo iuHoction of
amusement; and then she looked at me over the top of
her teacup, as much as to say, '3'ou liad better not go too
far ! '
'Are your father and inotlier living ?' she asked ; and just
then I noticed that it was twenty minutes past four by the
clock. I answered Miss Corko in the aflirmative, and naturally
I was glad to be able to ; but I have often wondered since why
that invariable interest in the existence or non-existence of a
person's parents should prevail in England as it does. I have
seldom been approached by any one in a spirit of kindly curiosity
with a different formula. 'Any brothers and sisters?' Miss
Corke went on. ' AVlien did you come ? AVhero did you go
first ? How long do you mean to stay ? What have you seen ?
])id you expect us to be as we are, or do wo exceed your expec-
tations ? Have you ever travelled alone before ? Are you quite
sure you like the feeling of being absolutely independent?
Don't you love our nice old manners and customs ? and won't
you wish when you get back that you could put your Pn si(kMit
on a golden throne, with an ermine robe, and a sceptre in his
right hand ? '
Miss Corke gave me space bi'tweeu tluse ([uc.-tions for
brief answers, but by the time I looked at the clock again, and
saw that it was twenty-five minutes past four, t(j llio best of my
recollection, she had asked me twelve. I liked it iinmcnselv— it
made conversation so easy ; but I could not help thinking, in
connection with it, of the capacity for interrogation, which I had
always heard credited exclusively to Americans.
' Peter,' said Lady Torquilin at last, a little tired of it, ' ask
something about me ; I haven't seen you for weeks.'
* Dear lady,' said Peter, ' of course I will. i]ut this is some-
144 y^^ AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
tiling new, you sec, so one takes an oplicmoral — very ephemeral !
— interest in it.'
Lady Tonpiilin laughed. ' Well ! ' said she, ' there's nothing
more wonderful than the way it gets about alone.'
Then I laughed too. 1 did not find anything in the least
objectionable in being called an ' it ' l)y ^Hss Corke.
'So vou've been in I'lu'dand a whole month!' said she.
*And what do you think you have observed about us? Basing
your opinion,' said Miss Corke, with serio-coniicality, ' upon tho
fact that we are for your auuiiration, and 'not for your criticism,
Low do vou like us ? '
I couldn't help it. ' Individually,' I said, ' I like you fat rli/
well — as a nation, I can't '
' Oh! ' cried ]\liss Corke, in a little funny squeal, rushing at
Lady Torquilin, ' you've gone and told her — you wicked
woman !' — and she shook Jjiidy Tor([uilin, a thing I didn't see
how she dared to do. ' I can't bear it, and I won't ! Private
correspondence — I wonder you're not ashamed!' — and ^liss
Corke sank into a chair, and covered her face with her liands
and her handkerchief, and squealed again, more comically than
before. By the time I had been acquainted with ]\Iiss Corke
a fortnight I had leanied to look for that squeal, and to love it.
She probably will not know until she reads this chapter Iiow
painfully I have tried to copy it, and how vainly, doubtless
owing to the American nature of my larynx. But Miss Corke
had a way of railing at you that made you feel rather pleased
that vou had misbehaved. I could see that it had that effect
upon Lady Tonpiilin, though all she did was to smile broadly,
and say to ]\nss Peter, ' Hoity-toity ! Have another cup of tea."
In the course of further conversation, Miss Corke said tlmt'^
she saw my mind iinist be improved immediately if she had to
/h\ AMlZRlCAK GIRL IX IOXDlKV
145
cId it liersL'lf; and where would I like to begin. I said almost
iinywhere, I didn't think it much mattered ; iind^Iiss Corkesaid,
AW'll, that was candid on my part, and augured favourably, and
' " you WICKKD WcMAN " '
\ \B I archltectn-rurally ineliiird ■." ] said I thonght I was,
tea.
\ .me; and out came Mi>;.s IVter ("orke's little shriek again,
that ' . . °
'ell her,' she said, prodding J^aily Torquilin, 'that we say
id to
I
1^6 yiX AMERICAN GIRL AV LONDON
'•' nitlier" over Ik.to in tliiit connection ; T don't know lior well
enougli.' And I was ol)liL,'od to beg Lfitly Tonjnilin to tell Jirr
lliut we said ' some' over tliero in tlnit connection, thonixli not
in books, or university lectures, or serio'^s-niindcd magazines.
' Oh, come ! ' said ;^[iss Corke, ' do you mean to say you've
got any serious-minded magazines ? '
' I'll come anywhere you like,' I responded. ' Have you got
any light-minded ones ? '
AVhereat ^liss Corkc turned again to Lady Torquilin, and
confided to her that I was a flippant young woman to live in the
same house with, and Lady Torquilin assured her that thero
wasn't really any harm in me — it was only my way.
' H'm ! ' remarked ISIiss Peter, perking up her chin in a
manner that made me long to be on kissing terms with her — ' the
American way ! ' As I write that it looks disagreeable ; as Petei
Corke said it, it was the very nectar and ambrosia of prejudiced
and ftivourable criticism. And T soon found out that whatever
she might say, her words never conveyed anything but herself
— never had any significance, I mean, that your knowledge of
her delightful nature did not endorse.
' I suppose we'd better begin with the churches, don't you
think?' said i\Iiss Corke to Lady Torquilin. 'Poor dear! 1
dare say she's never seen a proper church ! '
' Oh, yes! ' I said, 'you have never been in Chicago, Mi^-
Corke, or you wouldn't talk like that. "\Vc have several of tli'
finest in America in our city ; and we ourselves attend a veiy
large one, erected last year, the Congregational — though momii.a
has taken up Theosophy considerably lately. It's built in amplii-
theatre style, with all the latest improvements — electric liglit.
and heated with hot water all through. It will seat five thou-
sand people on spring-edged cushions, and has a lovely kitchen
i
AX AM ERIC AX C/A7, /X I.OXDOX
1-17
fiHncliod for socials!' ' niiilf In tli(> ainpliillicatr** style!
rcpi'iitetl Miss Corlvo. 'To seal live llio'isniid pi'i»})le on s[>.rin(^-
(5 ||
*" REMElinEn, YOUKG LADV, TIir.EE-TniRTY — Sliari)'"'
h 2
148 AX AMr.RlCAX GIRL IX lOXDOX
('ili;'»'(l cnsliions — willi u kitclu'ii attaclu'd! And now, will yoil
tell me inimediatclv wlial u ''social" is?'
' 'I'luTO arc difU'ront kinds, yon know," I replied. ' Ti-e-cream
socials, and oyster socials, and ordinary iea-nieetin<^s ; but tliey
nearly alwavs have sonie{hin<' to eat in tlieni— a dry social with
only a collection never amonnts to nnuli. And they're generally
held in the basenient of I lie chureh. and \\\o young ladies oftlie
con<rre<j^ation wait.'
iMiss Corke looked at nie, amused and aghast. ' ^'ou see, T
was quite right,' she said to iiiuly 'ronpiilin. ' She never has!
Ihit I think this really ought to be reported to the Foreign
^Missions Society ! .Dl take you to the Abbey to-morrow,' slu*
went on. ' Vou like " deaders," don't vou ? The time between
might be ])roniably spent in iastingand meditation! CJo()d-l)ye,
dear love ! ' — to Lady Tonjuilin. ' No, you will not come down,
either of you! llemember, young lady, three-thirty, sltarj^, at
the entrance evi^rybody uses, opposite Dizzy's statue — the same
which vou are never on anv account to call ])izzv, but alwavs
Lord Diisraeli, with the respect that becomes a foreigner ! Good-
bye ! '
AX AMEIUaiN GIRL IN LONDON
'49
XTV
HAT do yoii inc.'iii ?* asked Miss
C'orkc, iiidii'aliii!jf llic rai'liji-
JiKMit House clock wil li a re-
jji-oaclifid parasol, as I joined
licr a week fVoin tho followiii;^
aflcniooii outside tlie south
cloister of the Abbov. W't^
liad seen a good deal of Ikm* in
the meant iine, but the Ahhev
visit had been postponed.
Her tone was portentous, and
I looked at tlio clock, which
said ten minutes to four. I
didn't quite unch'rstand, for I
1hou<j^ht [ was in pretty good
time. ' Didn't vou sav I was
to como about now?' T inquired, ^fiss Corke made an inar-
ticulate exclamation of wrath.
'Half-past three may bo "about now" in America!" she
said, ' but it isn't liore, as vou mav see bv the clock. Fancv
my having made an appointment with a voung ]ier>on wlio had
an idea of keeping it '' about "" the tim i had condescended to
fix! ' — and ]\liss Corke put down her ])arasol as we (Mitered tin'
cloisters, and attem})ted to wither me witli a glance. If the
150 A.V AMERICAN GIRL L\ LONDON
glance luul not liad the very joUii'st sniilo of gooil-fellowsliip
inside it 1 don't know wliat I should have done, but as it was
I didn't v/ithcr : thounfh I re^jrettcd to hear that I had misi-cd
the Jerusalem Chamber by being late, where King Henry died
— because lie always knew lie should ex})iro in a place of that
name, and so fulfilled prophecy, poor dear, by coming to kneel
on the cold stone at St. Ivlward's shrine, where he would alwavs
say his prayers, and nowhere else, immediately after a number
of extraordinary Christmas dinners — and ]\Iiss Corke was not in
the least sorry for me, though it was a thing I ought to see,
and we positively must come another day to see it.
We walked up past the little green square that you see in
wide spaces through the side pillars, where the very oldest old
monks lie nameless and forgottcMi, whose lives gathered about
the foundations of the Abbey — the grey foundations in the gn-y
past — and sank silently into its history just as their bodily
selves have disappeared long ai^o in the mosses and grasses
that cover them. 'No, ]\liss Mamie Wick, of Chicago, I will
9tc»/ hurry ! ' said Miss Corke, ' and neither :-hall you! It is a
sacrilege that I will allow no young person in my company to
commit — to go through these precincts as if {\\v\v were anything
in the world as well worth looking at outside oftluin.'
I said 1 didn't want to hunv in the verv lc;isl.
' Aro vou sure vou don't — insiile of vou ? ' f lie demandrd.
'Certain you have ^ o lurking piivate andjition to do the Abbey
in two hours and get it over ? Oli, I know you ! I've brought
lots of vou here before.'
' I know,' I said, ' as a nation wo do like to get a good deal
for our time.'
'It's promising when you acknowledge it' — ^liss Corke
laughed. 'All the old abbots used to be buried here up to
A.\ AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXPON 151
the time ?f Henry 1J[. ; tliat's proljaMy one of 'cm '—ami Mi^^s
Corke's paraf-jol indicated a long, tliick, bliii.sli stone thing lying
on its back, with a round lump at cue end and an imitation of
features cut on the lump. It lay there very solidly along the
\vail, and I tried in vain to get a point of view from which it
was expressive of anything whatever. 'One of the early
abbots?' said I, because it seemed necessary to say something.
' Probablv,' said ]\Iiss Corke.
' Which particular abbot should you say ? " I a.sked, deferen-
tially, for I felt that I was in the presence of something very
early English indeed, and that it became me to l)e imprc-^e;!,
whether I was or not.
'Oh, I don't know,' ^liss Peter Corke replied. ' Postard,
perhaps, or Crispin, or maybe \'italis ; nobody knows.'
' I suppose it would have been easier to tell a while ago,' I
said. 'There is something so worn about his face, I sliould
think even the othei early abbots would find a didlcalty in
recognising him now. Nothing Druidical, I suppose ? '
'Certainly not. If you are going to be disrespectful,' said
^Miss Corke, 'I shall take you home at once.' AViiereat I pro-
tested that I did not dream disrespect — that he looked to me
(juite as much like a Druid as anything else. I even veittured
to say that, if she had not told me he was an early abbot, I might
have taken him for something purely and entirely geological.
The whole of this discui-sion took ]dace at wliat stood for the
early abbot's feet, and occupied some littli' time; so that, finally,
Miss Corke was obliged to tell me that, if there was one thing
she couldn't 1 ear, it was dawdling, and would I be ])leased to
look at the monumental tablet to Mr. Thomas Thynne, of which
.she would relate to me the history. So we paused in frc^nt of
it, while ^liss Corke told me how the gentleman in the ba3-
152 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
relief cliariot was Mr. Thomas Thyiine, and the gentleman on
liorfceback, shooting at him with ablunderbusp, was Kcinigsmarkj
accompanied by his brother; and Kcinigsmark was in the act of
killing ]\Ir. Thomas Thynne, with the horses getting unmanage-
able, and the two powdered footmen behind in a state of great
agitation, because both ]\[r. "^I'liomas "J'hynne and Kcinigsmark
were attached to the same lady — a young widow lady with a
great deal of money- — and she liked ^Ir. Tliomas Tliynne best,
which was more than ^Ir. Kuniyfsmark could bear. So ^Ir.
Kiinigsmark first swore properly that he would do it, and then
did it — all in Pall !Mall, when ]\[r. Thomas was in the very act
of driving homo from paying a visit to the widow. It was a
most affecting story, as Peter Corke told it, especially in the
presence of the memorial with a white uiarblo Cupid pointing to
it, erected by Mr. Thynne's bereaved relatives ; and I was glad
to hear that the widow had nothincf to do with ]\Ir. Konijj^smark
afterwards, in spite of the simplicity and skill of his tactics with
regard to his rival. I thought the history of the event quite in-
teresting enough in itself, but Miss Corke insisted that the point
about it really wortliy of attention was the fact that the younger
3Ir. Konigsmark was the gentleman who afterwards went back-
to Hanover, and there ilirted so disgracefully with Sophia
Dorothea of Zell that King George said he wouldn't have it,
aiul shut her ui) in A]ild(Mi "Slower for thirtv-two years. Miss
Corke explained it all in a di'lightl'ul kindergarten way,
mentionintjr volum(»s for !iiv rcri'i'.'iici' if 1 wanted to hiiow nmre
about the incident. ' Although this,' she said, ' is the soi I of
thing you ought to have been improving your mind with ever
since you learned to read. I don't know what you mean by it,
coming over here with a vast unbroken field of ignorance about
our celebrities. Do you think time began in 1770?' i\t which
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 153
I retaliated, and f^aid that far IVom being an improving incident,
I wasn't sure that it was altogetlier respectable, and I didn't
know of a single church in Chicago that would admit a bas-
relief of it, with or without a mourning Cupid. In return to
which ]\[issCorko> could find nothing better to say than 'Lawks!'
' Don't tell me you've read I he " Spectator ! "' ' she remarked
a little farther on, ' because I know you haven't — you've read
nothing but AV. I), llowells ami the " New York AVorld ! "'
Oh, you have? Several essays! AVhen, pray ? At school —
I thought sr ! When you couldn't help it! Well, I know
you've forgotten Sir Roger de Coverley, in the Abbey, stopping
Addison here, to tell him that nuui thrashed his grandfather!
His own grandfather, you know, not Addison's!' And wo
contemplated the studious efligy of Dr. I'usby until I told
^liss Corke that I wanted to be tnken to the Poets' Corner.
' Of course you do,' said she ; ' there are rows of Americans there
now, sitting looking mournful and thinking up rpiotations. If
I wanted to find an American in London, I should take up my
position in the Poets' Corner until he arrived, ^'ou needn't
apologise — it's nothing to your discredit,' renuirked Miss Cork(%
as we turned in among your wonderful crumbling old names,
past the bust of George Grote, historian of Greece. ' Of course,
you have heard of his lady-wife,' she said, nodding at ]\[r. Grote.
I ventured the statement that she was a very remarkable person.
' Well, she was ! ' returned Miss Corke, 'though that's a shot
in the dark, and you might as well confess it. One of i]iG most
remarkable women of her time. All the biographers of the dtiy
wrote about her — as you ought to know, iitfiniatelii. I have
the honour of the acquaintance of a niece of hers, who told me
the other day that she wasn't particularly fond of her, (Jreat
iudepeudence of character J '
154 AM AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
'^Vllel•e is Cliaucer?' I asked, -wishing to begin at the
beginning.
' Just like every one of you that I've ever brought here ! '
Miss Corkc exclaimed, leading the way to the curious old
rectangular grey tomb in the wall. ' The very best — the very
oldest — immediately ! Such impatience I never saw ! There
now — make out that early Englisli lettering, if you can, and be
j)roperly sorry that you've renounced your claim to be proud
of it ! '
' I can't make it out, so I'll think about being sorry later,' I
said. ' It is certainly very remarkable ; lie might almost have
written it himself. Now, where is Shakespeare ? '
' Oh, certainly ! ' exclaimed ^liss Corko. ' This way. And
after that you'll declare you've seen them all. But you miirlit
just take time to understand that you're walking over " 0 rare
Jien Jonson ! " who is standing up in his old bones down there
as straight as you or I. Insisted — as you probably are not
aware — on being buried that way, so as to be ready when
Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning. I won't say that
ho hasn't got his coat and hat on. Yes, that's Samuel —
I'm glad you didn't say Wvw was tlu^ lexicographer. Milton
— certainly — it's kind of you to notice him. Blind, you re-
niembin*. 'i'he author of several works of some reputation — in
Kn Inland.'
' I knew he was blind,' I said, ' and used to dictate to his
daughters. AW's have a picture of it at home.' I made this
remark very innocently, and Miss Corke looked at me with a
comical smile. ' IJless it and save it ! ' she said, and then, with
an attempt at a reproach, ' What a humbug it is ! '
We looked at Shakespeare, supreme among them, predicting
solemn dissolution out of ' The Tempest,' and turned from liim
A.y A ME RICA X GIRL IN LONDON
155
•we looked at shakespkaui:,
supreme among tiikm '
IS6
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
to Gay, wlioso final reckless word I read with as much astonisli-
ment as if I had never heard of it before.
Life's ii ji :-t, and all tliinjrs sliow it ;
1 thought so once, iVnd now I know it,
has no significance at nil read in an American school-book two
thousand miles, and a hundred and fifty years from the writer
of it, compared with the grim
shock it gives you when you
see it actually cut deep in the
stone, to be a memorial always
of a dead man somewhere not
far awav.
' That you should have
heard of Nicholas Uowe,' said
^liss Corke, ' is altogether too
much to expect. Dear me !
it would be considerably easier
to improve your mind if it had
ever been tried before. But
he was poet-laureate for George
the First — you understand the
term ? '
'I think so,* I said. 'They
contract to supply the Iloyal
Family with poetry, by the
vear, at a salary. We have
nothing of the kind in America.
You see our Presidents differ so. They might not all lik<'
pjetry. And in that case it would be wasted, for there isn't a
magazine in the country that would take it second-hand.'
' ].iesides having no poets who could do it properly, poor
' " life's a jest, and ALli THINliS
snow IT ;
I TiroronT so once, and now i
KNOW IT " '
Ah" A}iEl'aCAX CIRL IN i. ON DON 157
things ! ' said ^fissCorke — to wliicli T acct'dt'cl witlioiit dinicuUy.
' Well, Mr. llowc was a poot-laun'ati', though that has nothing
whatever to do with it. JJut he had a great friend in Mr. 1V)[)0
— Pope, you know him — by reputation — and when he and his
daughter died, ^fr. ]^opo and Afrs. Howe felt so bad about it
that lie wrote those mournful lines, and she had 'em put up.
Now listen ! —
To tlinse so mourned in deatli, so lovM in lifi',
The childless parent and the witlowcd wile—
meanin*? the same ladv: it was only a neat wav tlit^v had of
doubling up a sentiment in those days ! —
With tears inscribes this monumental stone,
That holds their ashes and expects her own 1
and everybody, including ^fr. I'ope, thought it perfectly sweet
at tlie time. 'J'lien what does this degenerate widow do, after
giving !Mr. Pope every reason to believe that she would fuUil
his poetry ? '
' She marries again,' I said.
^ Quite right ; she marries again. Put you needn't try to
impose upon me, miss ! To come to that conclusion you didn't
require any previous information whatever! She marries again,
and you can't think how it vexed Mr. Pope.'
'I know,' I said, ' he declared that was the last of his lend-
ing the use of his genius to widows ' — for 1 had to assume some
knowledge of the subject.
!Mis3 Corke looked at me. ' You iiljlt ! ' she said. ' lie did
nothing of the sort.'
'Michael Drayton!' I read amongst oth(>r names which
surprised mo by their unfamiliarity ; for in America, whatever
Peter Corke may say, if wo have a strong point, it is names —
l5i^ A.y AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
* wlio was ^IIcliJicl DiMvlnii? jiiid wliy w.-is //«■ onlitlcd to fl
bu.st ? '
' lie wroh' tim '• l\)lyoll)i()ii,'' ' suKl Misi Corki', Jis il" llitit
were all thciv was to say about it.
* Do you know,' I .saiil — ' I am asluinu'd to confess it,
but even of so well-known and interesting a work of genius
ns the ** Polyolbion '' I have romniitted very few pages to
memory ! '
'Oh!' returned ^Fiss Peti'r, 'you're getting nnb>\'irable !
There's a lovely epitaph for you, of Edmund Spenser's, " whoso
divine spirrit needs noe othir witnesse than the workes which
he left behind him." You will kindlv make no ribald remarks
about the spelling, as I perceive you are thinking of doing.
Try and remember that we taught you to spell over there.
And when Edmund Spenser was buried, dear damsel, there
came a company uf poets to the funeral — Shakespeare, doubt-
less, among them — and cast into his grave all manner of
elegies.'
' Of their own composition ?' I inquired.
' Stupid ! — certainly ! And the pens that wrote them ! '
I said I thought it a most beautiful and poetic thing to have
done, if they kept no copies of the poems, and asked ^liss
Corke if she believed anything of the kind would be possible
now.
' Bless you ! ' she replied. ' In the first place, there aren't
the poets ; in the second place, there isn't the hero-worship ;
in the third place, the conditions of the poetry-market arc dif-
ferent nowadays — it's more expensive than it used to be ; the
poets would prefer to send wreaths from the florist's — you can
*
get quite a n;ce one for twelve-and-six ; ' and JVter Corke made
a little grimace expressive of disgust with the times, ' Wo
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 159
tisetl to li;iV(' ;ill ))(>i'fs iiiid no ])ul)lic, iiow we li;ivt' all i)iiljlic
and no pootsi' she dt't-larcd, 'now that Ac is o;(>ii(<--nn(l
Tennyson can't live for over.' Miss Corke pointod with lior
parasol to a iianio in \\\\> stone close to my ri^dit foot. I had
been looking about me, and above me, and everywhere but
there. As I read it I took my foot away quickly, and went
two or three paces off. It was so uidooked-for, that name, so
new to its association with death, that I stood aside, held by a
sudden sense of intrusion. IFe had always been so hi<,'h and so
far off in the privacy of his genius, so revered in his solitudes,
so unapproachable, that it took one's l)reath away for the
moment to have walked unthinkingly over the grave of Robert
Browning. It seemed like taking an advantage one would
rather not have taken — even to stand aside and read the plain,
strong name in the floor, and know that he, having done with
life, had been brought there, and left where there could Ijc no
longer about him any wonderings or any surmises. ^liss Corke
told me that sbe knew him, ' as one can say one knows such a
man,' and how kindly his interest was in all that the ordinary
people of his acquaintance like herself were thinking and doing;
but the little, homely stories she related to me from her personal
knowledge of him seemed curiously without relevance then.
Nothing mattered, except that he who had epitomised greatness
in his art for the century lay there beneath his name in the
place of greatness. And then, immediately, from this grave of
yesterday, there came to me light and deiinition for all the
graves of the day before. It stole' among the quaint lettering
of the inscriptions, and into the dusty corners of the bas-reliefs,
and behind all the sculptured scrolls and laurels, and showed
me what I had somehow missed seeing sooner — all that shrined
honour means in England; and just iu that one little corner
iCo AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
liONV f,n*o.it lidr possesHionH are! !Mis.s Corko said sotnetlilti^
al)()iit tlio royal tombs ami tlio coronation chair, and the ^vax;
clfigics in the chamber al)ovo the Islip Chapel, and getting on ;
l)iit, ' if yon don't mind,' I said, ' I should like to sit down hero
for a while with the other Americans and think.*
(r
II
An AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
i6i
XV
T is said tliat tliere are four liuiulretl
people in New York wlio are exclusive,
and tliero are a few more on
l^eacon Hill in Boston, and in
Philadelphia. But most Ameri-
cans are opposed to exclusiveness.
I know that nothing of the sort
flourishes in Chicago. Generally
and individually, Americans be-
lieve that every man is as good as
his neighbour ; and we take pains to proclaim our belief when-
ever the subject of class distinction is under discussion.
Poppa's views, however — representing those of the i^iajority in
an individual, as we hope they soon may do in a senator — are
strongly against any theory of exclusiveness whatever. And I
will say for poppa, that his principles are carried out in his
practice; for, to my knowledge, neither his retirement froju busi-
ness and purchase of a suburban lakeside residence, nor even
liis nomination for the Senate, has made the slightest diti'erenco
in his treatment of any human being. And yet Americans
coming over here with all their social theories in their trunks,
Bo to speak, very carefully packed to be ready at a moment's
liotice, very seldom seem to find a use for them in England. I
Vas brought up, you mi^ht say, on poppa's, and momma agreed
M
1 62 AX AM ERICA X CIRL IX LOXDOX
Willi liliu oil most points, with the one qiuilliicatiou tliat, if you
cuiiUlii't have nice society, it was niucli better to go without
any — 'Scarce company, ^velcolne trumpery!' momma always
declared would never be her motto. Vet since I have been in
l"]nglaiid 1 have hardly had occasion to refer to them at all. 1
listened to an American author about it a while ago, before 1
had any inienliou of writing my own English experiences, and
he said the reason Americans liked the exclusiveness over liere
w.is because its operation gave them such perfect types to study,
each of its own liitlo circle; while at homo we are a great inde-
terminate, shifting mass, and a person who wanted to know us as
a nation must know us very largely as individuals first. I thought
that might be a very good reason for an author, especially for
an author who liked an occasional cup of tea with a duchess;
but I was not sure tliat it could be claimed by a person like
myself, only over on a visit, and not for any special purpose of
biological research. So I went on liking the way you shut
sonie people out and let other people in, without inrpdring
further as to why I did — it did not seem profitable, especially
when I reflected that my point of view was generally from the
inside. ^My d;.mocratic principles are just the same as ever,
though — a person needn't always approve wliat she likes. I
shall take them b;^ck quite unimpaired to a country where they
rve indispensable- vvhere you really want them, if you are going
to be comfortable, every day of your life.
Nevertheless, I know it was the * private ' part of the
' Private View ' that made mo so anxious to go to the Academy
on the first da^ of ^May this year. The pictures would be there
t)ie second day, and the day following, and days indefinitely
after that, and for a quarter of u dollar I could choose my own
time and ci''cumstj'nce3 of going to see them. I might, weather
AN ami: /UC. IX i.IRL IX LOXDOX 163
ponnitting, have taken my 'view' of tlie Academy in llie puli-
licity of five or six otlier pv'ople wlio, like me, would have paid
a sliillinij^ a-]")iece to get in; l)iit I found ' 'If iiri'lirriiig tlie
privacy of tlio five or six: hundred who did not pay - ]nvferring
it immenselv. Besides, I liad licard all mv life of llu' • Private
A'iew.' livery year there' are special cablegrams ahout it in our
newspapers — who were there, and what they wore — g-eiierally
to the extent of at least a column and a half. Our special cor-
respondents in London glory in it, and rival each other, adjec-
tivally, in describing it. Lady Torquliin had been talking about
it a good deal, too. She said it was ' a thing to see,' and sho
meant to try to get me an invitation. Lady 'J'orfpiilin went
every year.
Lut when the thirtii'th day of April came, Lady 'l\)r(|nllin
told me in the evening, after dinner, that she hadn't been able to
manage it, and showed me the cai'd upon which the ' I 'resilient
and Mendjers of the Koyal Academy of Arts •' n-cpiested '" the
pleasure of the company of Lady Torqiiilin,' only, 'Not trans-
ferable.'
'It's very tiresome of them,' said Lady 'j'oriiuilin. 'to put
that on. It means that you positively must not givo it to any-
bodv. Otherwise I would have handed it over to vou, chiKl,
with the greatest pleasure — I don't i-are a pin's i)oint about
U'oiui', and vou could have jjone with the I'astelle-Jirowns. IJut
there it is ! '
Of course, nothincr would have iiuluced me \o take l.adv
Torquilin's invitation, and de])ri\-e lu'r of the pleasure of going;
but I pinned her veil at the back, and saw her otf down tho
elevator, next day at two, with an inti'usity of regret which
cannot come often in the coursi' of an ordinary lifetime. I was
describing my feelings in a letter, addressed, I think, to Mr.
M 2
^^isiji:.
' oun srECLVL coriiespondekts GLonv ih ii '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 165
Wiuterliazel, when, abouc an hour later, Lady Torqnilin appeared
again, flii.slied witli exertion, and sank panting into a chair.
' Get ready, cliild ! ' said slie. ' I'd wear vour tailor-made : those
stairs will kill nie, but there was— no time — to waste on the
b"ft. I can get you in — hurry up your cakes ! '
'But aiu I iuvited?' I askt-d.
' Certainly you are— by a Jioval Aeadeinieian in person— so
/// •' '
I flew, and in twenty minutes Lady Tonpiilin and I were
engaged in our usual altercation with a cabman on tlu^ wav to
Burlington House. AVhen he had got his cab and animal well
into a block in J'ond Street, and nothing of any sort could
possibly happen without the sanction of aJove-like policeman at
the crossing. Lady Torquilin took the ojiportunity of telling mo
liow it was that she was able to come for me. ' "^'ou see,' she
said, 'the very first person 1 had the good luck to meet when [
Avent in was Sir Bellamy JJelhuny— you remendier Sir Bellamy
Bellamy at the .Mintherringtons? I tell you frankly that I
wouldn't have mentioned it, my dear, unless he had first, thongh
1 knew perfectly well that what Sir IJelhimv JJellamv can't do
in that Academy simply can't be done, for you know I'm the
last one to /nish ; but he did. '• "Where is your young fi-iend ? '
said he. Then 1 took my chance, and told him Iiow I'd asked
that old screw of a Af(mkhoiise Diddlinirton for two, and oulv <'-ot
one, and how I couldn'l possibly give ir to vdu because it was
printed ''Not transferable," and Jiow disa])pointed y<Mi were;
and lie ini>< nice about it. '• My dear Lady 'ronpiihii,' he said,
"we were cliildren together, and von never came to mc I
should have been ddvjiiled ! "
' '' Well," I said, " Sir Bellamy, can't we do anything jdjoufc
it now ? " " It's ratlier late in the day," said lie. " It h lato iu
i65 AX AM/UaCAX (//A'A /.\' LOMJOX
the day,"' said I. " Oli, I s;!y ! "' said ho, ''sli;- imisj, come ifi^ho
wants to — any friend of yours, l^ady 'I'orjiiiilin" — siicli a hum-
bug as tlu^ man is! ''it's ;i l)il irreL^'ulai','" he went on, '-and
wc won't sav an\ thiu'^ abonl i(, hut it vou like to }j:o and yet I
lier, and see lliat slie carri 's fliis in with lier" (lioiv Lady 'JV>r- i
quilin ]irc)duced a fat. palc-hlue c'atal(>,Lrui> hook), '" tliere won't
bo anv difhcuUv. 1 f'aiicv."' So tliere vou are, Miss AVick, pro- !
vided with Sir IJellamy Ijellamy's own catalogue to admit you
— initdt's not a eom])limenf, I don't know wliat is! ' j
'I don't feel as if I had Leen properly invited,' I said; ' I'r.i ^
afraid I ou^'htn't to fjro, F.ady Tonpiilin.'
' Kuhhish, ehild ! ' said she. ' Do vou want them to send a
deputation for vou ? ' And afii'r that, what could I sav ?
*lfold up your head, and look perfectly indilfercnt,' advist^l
Lady 'I'onpiilin, as our hansom deposited us in the courtyard
Ijcforo the outer steps. ' Don't grasp that cataK)gue as if i( »•
were a l»anner; carry it carelessly. Now follow me.' And
liady 'I'orfpiilin, wilh great dignity, a sense of rectitude, and a
catalogue to which she was proju'rly entitled, followed by me
with vague apprelu'usions, a bad conscience, and a catalogue
that didn't belong to nn\ walked intolhe Private A'iew. Nobody
said anything, though i fancied one of the two old gentlemen
in crimson and black by the door looked knowingly at the other
when 1 passed, as much as to say : ' About that tailor-made
there is sonu'thing fraudulent.' J say 1 'fancied,' though at
the time I was certain they did, because my iuuigination, of
course, may iuive liail something to do with it. 1 know 1 was very
glad of the shelter of iiady 'I'orcpiilin's unimpeachable respecta-
bility in front. ' 'J'liere now,' she said, when we were well into |
the crowd, 'we're both here, and it's much nicer, isn't it, dear':"
than for you to come with strangers, even if I could liave made
ylX AMF.h'/CAX GIRL L\ Ia^XPOX 167
up my mind iliat it was rii^lit ^yn' you to he iulniif Ud t)n a ticket
plainly marked "not transferablo "— wliicli f really don't think,
dear. I should have 1)een aMe to do.'
We moved aindessly with the throng, and were immediately
overtaken and possesced by the spirit that seemed to be abroad
— a spirit of wondtT and criticism and speculation and searching,
that first embraced our nearest neighbours, went ofl' at random
to a curiously-dressed person in perspective, focussed upon a
celebrity in a corner, and spent ilself in the shifting crowd.
Lady Torqnilin bade mo consider whether in all my life before
I had ever seen such remarkable gowns, and I was obliged to con-
fess that I had not. Some of them were beaut iful, and some were
not ; many were what you so very properly and aptly call ' smart,'
.ind a few were artistic. All of them, pretty and ugly, I might
have encountered at home, but there was one species of ' frock '
which no American, I think, could achieve with impunity. It
was a protest against conventionalism, very much gathered, and
usually presented itself in colours unattainable out of a London
fog. It almost always went with a rather discouraged-looking
lady having a bad complexion, and hair badly done up ; and,
invariably, it dragged a little on one side. I don't know exactly
why that kind of dress would b > an impossible adjunct to the
person of an American woman, but I am disposed to believe
there is a climatic reason. We have so much sun and oxygen
in the United States that I think they get into our ideas of
clothes ; and a person upholstered in the way I have mentioned
would very likely find herself specially and tli-' peel fully
described in the newspipers. Ibit J do not wish to Oe thought
impertinent about the development of this particular English
dress ideal. It has undoubted points of interest. I had a better
opportunity of observing it at the Academy Soiree in June, when
i68 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
it sliccl abrofid tlie suggestion of a Tennysonian idyll left ont all
niglit.
Latly Torquilin had just pointed out to mo two ducliessef; :
one large and round, wlio was certainly a duchess hy mistake,
and the other tall and beautiful, -svith just such a curved upper
lip as a duchess ought to have, and a coronet easily imnginablo
under her bonnet, and wo were talking about them, "svhen I saw
somebody I knew. He was a middle-aged gentleman, and I had
a very interesting association with his face, though I couldn't
for the moment remember his name or where I had met liini,
I told Lady Torquilin about it, with the excited eagerness that
a person always feels at the sight of a familiar face in a foreign
land. ' >Somo friend of poppa's, I am certain,' I said ; and
although I had only Iiad a glimpse of him, and immediately
lost him in the crowd, wo decided to walk on in that direction
in the hope of seeing him again. He reappeared at a distance^
and again we lost him ; but we kept on, and while Lady Torquilin
{stopped to chat with her numerous acquaintances I looked out
carefully for my father's friend. .1 knew that as soon as he t'aw
me he would probably come up at once and shake hands, and
then the name would come back to me ; and I yearned to ask a
thousand things of (Miicago. We came face to face with him
unexpectedlv, and as his eve ciuLilit mine careles^dv it dawned
upon mo that the last time I hud seen him it was ivA in a long
grey overcoat and a ailk liat — there was sometliif/g incongruous
in that. Ah-o, I reniendjered an insolent grl/zled chin and
great duplicity. ' Oh ! ' I said to Lady Tonpiilin, ' I don't know
him at all ! It's '
* It's Mr. Bancroft ! ' said Lady Torquilin.
' ^Vho is Mr. Bancroft ? ' said I. ' It's the Abbe Latour ! '
I had enjoyed 'The Dead Heart' so much a fortnight before,
but I was glad I did not bow before I recognised that it was \\
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 169
gentleman w'ltli wliom I li;ul tlii> lionoiir of possessing only len-
aiul-sIxponc(^ worth of ac(|u;iintan('i\
I saw the various scandals of the year as well. Lady
Torquilin mentioned them, just i'O call my attention to their
dresses, generally giving her opinion that there liad been
altotrether too much said about the mattiM*. Ladv Torquilin
did not know many of the litiM'ary people who were present,
but she indicated ^fr. Anstey and ^\\\ "William Ulack, whoso
woi'ks arc extreuu'ly popular with \\'>^ and it was a particular
pleasure to be able to describe them when I wrote home next
day. I wanted to see Mr. Oscar AViKle very especiiLlly, but
somebody told Jiady ^roniiilliii he was at the Crosvenor — 'and
small loss, I consider! ' said she ; ' he's just like any other man,
dear child, onlv with more nonsense in his head than most of
them!' Ihit it was not iu the nature of thiugs or people
that Lady Tonpiilin should like Mr. Oscar AVilde. ]5efon' we
went she showed mo two or three lady-jtnu'nalists busy takiug
notes.
' 'Phere's that nice ^liss Jay IVune,' said Lady Ton|uiliu.
'I know all the -lav IViines — such a li^erarv familv! And Miss
Jay IVnne always wauls to know wluit I've got on. I thiidv I
nmst just spealc to her, dc. ;, if you don't miiul waiting ono
moment ; and I h^n w. 'II <>o.
'She asked alMiiil, yoii, too^ de;u',' said my friend when she
rejoined mi", with a lilt!'' iindg.' o'" e'lUgrat uiat ion.
I should, perlia[)s, iia\t' staled brfori' t h:it I hi iv were a nuudur
of artists walking around trviu''- to la'cp awav IVoui tiieir own
pictures; but this 1 gathered of mysell', ft.i', with the exception
of Sir Bellamy ]>ellamy, who had gout* away. Lady 'rorquilin
did not know anv of them. I noticed, too, that the walls of the
rooms we were in were covereil with pitrtui-es, i)ut they did not
seem to have anything to do with the Private \'iew.
170
/i.V AMLKJCA.X OIKL JN LO.XDON
XVI
\\^W\ ^^ ^DY POWDERBY'S ball
■ ~^" rl"""^^ was the first I attended in
I % A> London, and therefore, I
I \m su])pose, made the strongest
tJtkmmammtmmitUi impression upon me. It
was quite different from a Chicago ball, though the differences
were so intangible — not consisting at all in the supper, or tlie
music, or the dresses, or tlie decorations — that I am by no
AX AMERICA X GIRL IX I.OXDOX 171
means sure that I can explain tluMn ; so 1 bc^^ that you will not
be disappointed if you fail to learn from my idea t)f a liondon
ball wliat a Chicafjfo ball is like. It is very easy for you to find
out personally, if you liappen to be in Chicago.
We went in a four-wheeler at about eleven o'clock, and as
the driver dri'W up before the strip of carpet that led to the
door, the first thint^that struck me was the little crowd of peoph^
standing waiting on either side to watch the guests go in. I
never saw that in Chicago — that patience ciul self-abnegation.
I don't tliink the frecborn American citizen would find it con-
sistent with his dignity to hang about the portals of a party to
which he had not been invited. He would take pains, on the
contrary, to shun all appearance of wanting to go.
Inside 1 expected to find a crowd — 1 think balls are gene-
rally crowded wherever they are given ; ])ut I also expected to
be able to get through it, in which for quite twenty minutes [
was disappointed. JJoth Lady Tonpiilin and I m;ide u[) our
minds, at one time, to spend the rest of the evening in our
wraps; but just as we had abandoned ourselves to this there
came a breaking and a parting among the people, Jind a surgi^
in one direction, which Lady Torquilin explained, as we took
advantage of it, by the statiMuent that the suj)per-room had
been opened.
Li the cloak-room several ladies were already preparing for
dc^parture. 'Do you suppose they are illy' I asked Lady
'l\)r(|uilin, as we stood together, while two of the maids repaired
our damages as far as they were able. ' Why do they go Iiouk^
so early ? '
' 7/ume, child!' said Jiady 'Jonpiilin, with a withering
emphasis. ' They're going on ; J daresay they'\-e got a couple
more dances a-piece to put in an appearance at to night.' Lady
172 AX AMERICAN GIRL LV LONDON
Torqnilln did not approve of what she called 'excessive riot/
and ni'ViT accepti'd more than one invitation an evening; ko I
was nnfainiliar with London ways in this respect. I'resently
I had anotlur ohject-lesson in the periion of a lady who came in
and gave her cloak to the attendant, saying, * ]*iit it where you
can get it easily, please. Ill want it again in a quarter of an
liour.' I tliought as I looked at her that social pleasures must
be to such an one simply a series of topographical experiments.
I also thought I should have somctliing to say when next I
heard of the hurry and high pressure in which Americans
lived.
' It's of no use,' said Lady Torquilin, looking at the stairs ;
* we c:\n never get i:p ; we might as well go with tlie rest
and '
' Jfave some supper,' added somebody close behind us ; and
Lady Tonjuilin said: 'Oh, Charlie ]\[atrerton ! ' though why she
should have been surprised was more than I could inuigine, for
Charlie Matlerton was nearly always at hand. Wherever we
went to — at honu's, or concerts, or the theatre, or sight-sei'ing,
in any direction, ^Ir. ^lallerton turned up, eitlu'r expectedly (»r
unexpectedly, with great precision, and his manner toward Lady
Tortpiiliii was always as devoted as it could be. I have not
mentioned him often before in describing my experiences, and
shall probably not mention him often again, because after a
time I began to take liiui for granted as a detail of almost every-
thing we did. liady Torquilin seemed to like it, so I, of course,
had no right to object; and, indei'd, 1 did not particularly mind,
because Mr. ^fafferton was always nice in his manner to me, and
often very interesting in his remarks. But if Lady Torquilin
had not told me that she had known him in short clothes, and
if I liad jiot been ixn-fectl^ certain she was liir tpo sejisibl^ to
AN AM En tc Ay: cini. tx i.oxdox 173
p^lvo Tier jifTi'd ions io a ixtsou so much younjjfcr lliaii lirrsclf, I
clon't know what I would liavo thouL^lit.
So W(3 wt'iit witli tlio rest and had soini' supix-r, and, In llio
anxious interval during' which Lfidy 'ronjuilin and I ot-cuiilcd a
position in the doorway, and Mr. MalU'rton reconnoitred for ono
of the littl') round tables, 1 <liscov(>n'd what liad Ix'cn pu/.zlinLC
nio so ahout the house ever since 1 had come into it. Except
for the peo})le, and the flower di'corations, and a few chairs, it-
was absolutely empty. The i)eople furnished it, so to speMk,
.novinj? about in the hrilliancv of their dresses and diamonds,
and the variety of their manners, to such an extent that I had
not been able to particularise before what I felt was lacking to
this ball. It was a very curious lack — all the crewel-work, nnd
Japanese bric-a-brac, and flower lamp-shades, that j^oto make up
a home; and the substitute for it in the piy lights and ilowers,
and exuberant supper-table, and dense mass of people, «j^ave mo
the feeling of having been permitted to avail myself of a Ijrillianfc
opportunity, rather than of being invited to share the hospitality
of Lady Torrpiilln's friendfj.
' Has Lady Powderby just moved in ?* I asked, as wo sat
down around tw(3 bottles of champagne, a lot of things iilnc'cs,
a triple arrangement of knives and forks, and a pyramid ot
apoplectic strawberries.
'Lady I'owderby doesn't live liere,' Lady Tonpiilln s:ud.
'No, Charlie*, tlinnk you — sweets fur you young ])eoj>K> if you
like — savouries for me!' and my friend exi)lained \o me that
Lady Powderby wns 'at homo' at this particular address only
for this ])articular evening, and had probably paid a good many
guineas house-rent for the night ; after which I tried in vain to
feel a sense of p;'rsonal gratitude for my strawberries, which I
was not privih^gcd even to cat with my hostess's fork — though,
174 '^A^ AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
of course, I knew tliat this was mere sentiment, and that prac-
tically I "vvas as much indebted to Lady Powderby for her
strawberi'ies as if she had grown them herself. And, on general
grounds, I was reall}^ glad to have had tlie chance of attending
this kind of ball, which had not come within my experience
before. I don't think it would occur to anybody in Chicago to
hire an empty house to give an entertainment in ; and though,
now that I think of it, j\dmer's Hotel is certainly often utilised
for this purpose, it is generally the charity or benevolent society
liop that is given there.
During supper, while Lady Torquilin was telling Mr. Maffer-
ton how much we had enjoyed the ' Opening,' and how kind liis
cousin had been, I looked round. I don't know whether it is
proper to look round at a ball in England — it's a thing I nrver
should have thought of doing in Chicago, where I knew
exactly what I slio', ■' see if I did look round — but the im-
personal nature of L-ad}^ Powderby's ball gave "le a sense of
irresponsibility to anybody, and the usual code of manners
seemed a vague law, without any particular applicability to
present circumstances. And I was struck, much struck, with
the thorough business-like concentration and singleness of
purpose that I saw about me. The people did not seem much
acquainted, except by twos and threes, and ignored each other,
for the rncsfc part, in a calm, high-level way, that was really
educating to see. But they were not without a common senti-
ment and a common aim — they had all come to a ball, where it
devolved upon them to dance and sup, and dance again — to dance
and sup as often as possible, and to the greatest possible advan-
tage. This involved a measuring-up of what there was, which
seemed to be a popular train of thought. There Avas no undue
levity. If a joke had been made in that supper-room it would
AX A.] f ERIC AX GIRL IX lOXDOX 175
have exploded more violently tli:m t^o cluuiipagne-Lottles.
Indeed, there was as great and serious decorum as Avas possible
among so many human beings who all required to be fed at once,
with several changes of plates. I observed a great deal of be-
haviour and a great similarity of it — the gentlemen were alike,
and the ladies were alike, except that some of the ladies were a
little like the gentlemen, and some of the gentlemen were a
little like the ladies. This homogeneit\ was remarkable to me,
considerincf how few of them seemed to have even a bowinuf
acquaintance with each other. But the impressive thing was
the solid unity of interest and action as regarded the supper.
We struggled upstairs, and on the first landing met a lady-
relation of our hostess, with whom Lady Torquilin shook hands.
' You'll never find her,' said this relation, referring to Lady
]^o\vderby. 'The Dyngeleys, and the I'orterhouses, and the
Bangley Coffins have all come and gone without seeing her.'
But I may just state here that we did find her, towards morning,
in time to say good-bye.
When I say that the floor of Lady Powderby's (temporary)
ball-room was full, I do not adequately express the fact. It was
replete — it ran over, if that is not too impulsive an expression for
the movement of the ladies and gentlemen who were twirling
round each other upon the floor, all in one direction, to the
music. With the exception of two or three couples, whose
excited gyration seemed ([uite tipsy by contract, the ball
upstairs was going on with the same profound and determined
action as the ball downstairs. I noticed the same universal
look of concentration, the same firm or nervous intention of
properly discharging the responsibilities of the evening and
the numbers of the programme, on the face of the sweet, fresh
dC'hatante^ steadily getting pinker ; of the middle-aged,
176
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
inilitmy man, dancing liko a disjointed foot-rnle; of ti.c stout
old lady in crimson silk, very low in the neck, who sat against
' i)A^•cI^;a like a disjointed foot-hule '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 177
tlie wall. The popular theory seciiicd to be that the dancing
was something to be Done — tlie consideration of enjoyment
brought it to a lower plane. And it was an improving sight,
thouo'h sad.
!Mr. ]\rafferton asked me for Xumbers seven, and nine, and
eleven — all waltzes. I knew \\o would be obliufcd to, out of
politeness to Lady Torquilin, who had got past daneing iiersclf;
but I had been dreadino- it all the time I siieut in wateliinijr
the other men go round, while Mr. ]\ralferton sought for a
chair for her. So I suofo-ested that we should trv Nundjer
seven, and see how we got on, ignoring the others, and saying
something weakly about my not haviug danced lor so long,
and feeling absolutely certain that I should not be able to
acquit myself with the erectness — to speak of nothing else —
that seemed to be imperative at Lady Powderby's ball. ' Oh !
I am sure we shall do very -w; 11,' said ]\[r. ]\[afFerton. And we
started.
I admire English dancing. I am accustomed to it now, and
can look at a roomful of people engaged in it without a sym-
pathetic attack of vertigo or a crick in my neck. I think it is,
perhaps, as good an exposition of the unbending, unswerving
quality in your national character as could be found anywhere,
in a small way ; but I do not think an American ought to tamper
with it without preliminary training.
Mr. Mafferton and I started — he with confidence, I wi(h
indecision. You can make the same step with a pair
of scissors as Mr. ]\Iafrerton made ; I did it afterwards,
when I explained to Lady Tor({uilIn how impossible it
was that I should have danced nine and eleven with him.
Compared with it I felt that mine was a caper, and the height
of impropriety. You will argue from this that they do not
N
178
AA AMERICAN GIRL JN LONDON
go together well ;
and that is quite
correct. "We in-
serted ourselves
into the moving
mass, and I went
hopelessly round
the Maypole that
Mr. Mafferton
seemed to have
turned into,
several tiraeK.
Then the room
began to reel.
' Don't you think
we Iiad better
reverse ? ' I
asked ; ' I am
getting dizzy,
I'm afraid.' Mr.
Mafferton stop-
ped instantly,
and the room
camerififhtau-ain.
' Reverse ? ' he
said ; I don't
think I ever heard
of it. I thought
we were getting
on capitally ! '
And when I ex-
'"BEVERSK?" HE SAID; "l DON't THINK I EVKU HEARD OF IT " '
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 179
plained to him that reversing!' meant tui'ninijf round, and eroinir
the other way, he declared that it was quite impracticable —
that we Avould knock everybody el^e over, and that he had
never seen it done. After the last argument I did not press
the matter. It took very little acquaintance with ]\[r. ^TafTerton
to know that, if he had never seen it done, he never would
doit. 'We Avill try going back a bit,' he proposed instead;
with the result that after the next four or five turns \w.
began to stalk away from me, going I knew not whither.
About four minutes later we went back, at my urgent request,
to Lady Torquilin, and Mr. ]\[afferton told her that we had
* hit it off admirably.' I tliink ho must have thought we did,
because he said something about not having been quite able
to catch mj'-step at first, in a way that showed entire satisfaction
with his later performance ; which was quite natural, for ]\Ir.
Mafferton was the kind of person who, so \ow<-x as lie was dointr
his best himself, would hardly be aware whether anybody else
was or not.
I made several other attempts with friends of Lady Torquilin
and Mr. Mafferton, and a few of them were partially successful,
though I generally found it advisable to sit out the latter parts
of them. This, when room could be found, wns very amusing;
and I noticed that it was done all the way up two flights of
stairs, and in every other conceivable place that offered two seats
contiguously. I Avas interested to a degree in one person with
whom I sat out two or three dances running, lie was quite a
young man, not over twenty-four or live, I should think — a
nephew of Lady Torquilin, and an oflicer in the Army, living at
Aldershot, very handsome, and wore an eyeglass, which was,
however, quite a common distinction. I must tell you more
about him again in connection with the day Lady Torquilin and
N 2
i8o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
I spent at Aldorsliot at his invitation, because lie really deserves
a chapter to liimself. But it was he who told me, at Lady
Powderby's ball, referring to the solid mass of humanity that
packed itself between us and the door, that it was witli
the greatest difficulty that he finally gained the ball-room.
'Couldn't get in at all at first,' said he, 'and while I was
standin' on the outside edge of the pavement, a bobby has the
confounded impudence to tell me to move along. ' " Can't,"" '
says I—" I'm at the party." '
I have always been grateful to the Aldershot officer for giving
me that story to remember in connection with Lady Powderby's
ball, although Mr. Mafferton, when I retailed it, couldn't see
that it was in the least amusiug. ' Besides,' he said, ' it's as
old as " Punch.'' ' But at the end of the third dance Mr. Maffer-
ton had been sent by Lady Torquilin to look for me, and was
annoyed, I have no doubt, by the trouble he had to take to find
me. And Mr. Mafferton's sense of humour could never be con-
sidered his strong point.
V
1
AA' AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON iSi
XVII
A GREAT many otlier pooplo were going to Aklcrsliot tlio
■A day we went there— so many that the train, whicli wo
were almost too hite for, had nowhere two spare seats together.
Just at the hist minute, after Lady Torqnilin had decided that
we mnst travel separately, the guard unlocked the door of a
first-class carriage occupied by three gentlemen alone. It
afforded much more comfortable accommodation than the car-
riage Lady Torquilin was crowded into, but there was no time
to tell her, so I got in by myself, and sat down in the left-hand
corner going backward, and prepared to enjoy the landscape.
The gentlemen were so much more interesting, however, that
I am afraid, though I ostensibly looked at the landscape, I paid
much more attention to them, which I hope was comparatively
proper, since they were not aware of it. They were all rather
past middle age, all very trim, and all dressed to ride. There
the similarity among them ended ; and besides being different
from one another, they were all different from any American
gentlemen I had ever met. That is the reason they were so
deeply interesting.
One, who sat opposite me, was fair, with large blue eyes
and an aquiline nose, and a well-defined, clean-shaven face, all
but his graceful moustache. He was broad-shouldered and tall,
and muscular and lean, and he lounged, illuminating his con-
versation with a sweet and easy smile. He looked very clever,
\82
AX AMI'.RICAX GIRL IX I.OXDOX
iiiid 1 lliiiik lie imist liuvc Ix'.-ii tokl all his lilo that ho re-
scmbk-d the Dukt^ of AWllington. 'I'ho ono in the otkiT corner,
opposite, \Yas rosy and roujid-faced, with twinkling blue eyes
and a grey
moustache, and
he made a com-
fortable angle
with his rotund
person and the
wall, crossing liis
excellent legs.
>'
' I OSTENSIBLY LOOKED AT THE LANDSCAPE '
The one on mj side, of whom I had necessarily an imperfect
view, was very grc}', and had a straight nose and a pair of level
eyes, rather pink about the edges, and carefully-cut whiskers
AX AME!^ICAX CIRI. IX I.OXDOX
•S;,
nncl slopiiio- sliouldfi's. lie <litl not liiim<i^("' at :ill. or cvi'ii cross
liis Ic^^s, hut sat I)olt iipriulit and read tlie pa]H'r. Ho looked
Uko a person of cxtreiiu' views upon propriety, and a I'atlicr
bad temper. The lirst man liad tlie 'Times,' the second the
'Standard,' and tlie third the '.Morning J'ost." J think they
all belonged to the upper classes.
They began to
talk, especially tlu!
two opposite, the
lean man throwini.''
his remarks and his
easy smiles indo-
*•" ,. ' THKY WKIii; ALL n
I KKItr.NT FIUiM ANY A^
niF-
VllK-
lUCA.N GENTLKMKN
lently across the valises on the seat between them. He spoke of
the traffic in Piccadilly, 'wliere 'a brute of an omnibus' had
taken off a carriage-wheel for him tiie day before. lie was of
opinion that too many omnibuses were allowed to run through
Piccadilly — *a considerable lot' too many. I To also found
the condition of one or two streets in that nelu'hbourhood
i84 AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
* disgustinV and was 'goiii' to cull nlk'ntioii to it.' All in cool,
liigli, pleasant, iiulolont tones.
' Write a letter to tlio '' Times," ' said the otlier, with a
broad smile, as if it were an excellent joke. ' I don't mind
reading it.'
The first smiled gently and thoughtfully down upon his
Ijoot. *AVill you guarantee that anybody else does?' said he.
And they chaffed. j\Iy neighbour turned his paper impatiently,
and said nothing.
' WhatVyou goiii' to ride to-day ? ' asked the first. Ilis
voice was delightfully refined.
'Haven't a notion. ]kdieve they've got something for me
down there. Expect the worst' — which also, for some unknown
reason, seemed to amuse them very much.
' You've heard 'bout Puhbelow, down heah year befoli last —
old Puhbelow, used to c'mand 25tli Wangers ? A.D.C. wides
up t' Puhbelow an' tells him he's wanted at headquahtehs im-
medlatelv. "That case," savs Puhbelow, "I'd better walJcV
An' he (h'd,'' said my vii^-d-vi^.
' Lord ! ' returned the other, ' I hope it won't come to
that.'
' It's the last day I shall be able to turn out,' he went on,
ruefully.
' For w'y ? '
' Can't get inside my uniform another year.*
' Snpuhfluous adipose tissue ? '
' Pather ! Attended the Levee last week, an' came away
black in the face ! At my time o' life a man's got to consider
Ills buttons. 'Pon my word, I envy you lean dogs.' He ad-
dressed both his neighbour and the pink-eyed man, who took
no notice of the pleasantry, but folded his paper the other way,
AN AMEP.ICAN GIRL IX LONDOX 183
and said, witlioiit looking up, that tluit liud been a very disas-
trous Jlood in tlio United States.
' Tluy do everylhiug on a hv^ scale over tluiyali,' remarked
tlie man across from me, genially, ' incliidiu' swindles.'
The round-faced gentleman's eye kindled willi ikmv interest.
'Were you let in on those Kakeboygan Limitcds?' jic said.
' 13y Jove !— abominable ! Never knew a cooler thing ! .Must
have scooped in fifty thousand ! '
' It was vey painful,' said the other, unexcitedly. ' lU- ih'
way, what d'you think of Little Toledos ? '
' Don't know anything about 'em. JJought a few—daresay
I've dropped my money.'
'Wilkinson wanted me to buy. Lunched the beast last
Aveek, expectin' to get a pointer. Confounded sharp scoundrrl,
Wilkinson!' And this gentleman smiled (piite seraphically.
' Still expectin'. I see Oneida Centrals have reached a pre-
mium. ]jQuglit a lot eight months ago for a song. Chcapah
to buy 'em, I thought, than waste more money in somethin' I
knew as little about ! There's luck ! ' This stage of the con-
versation found me reflecting upon the degree of depravity
involved in getting the better of the business capacity which
made its investments on these principles. I did nut meditate a
defence for my fellow-countrymen, but I thought they had a
pretty obvious temptation.
The talk drifted upon clubs, and the gentlemen expressed
their preferences. ' Hear you're up for the Army and Navy,'
said the rosy-foced one.
* Ye-es. Beastly bore getting in/ returned he of the aqui-
line nose, dreamily.
' How long ? '
* 'Bout two years, I believe. I'm up again for the Uuited
i86 AJV AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
tServlce, too. Had a fit of economy in '85 — year of the Taran-
tilhiR sniasli — yon ^V('lv in tliat, too, welni't yon? — an' knocked
off fiv'o o' six o' my clubs. They make no end of a wow about
k'ttin' you in again.'
' Well, the Rag's good enough for me, and tL» Lyric's
convenient to take a lady to. They say the Corinthian's the
thing to belong to now, though,' said the round gentleman,
tentatively.
' If yon have a taste for actresses,' returned the other, with
another tender glance at his boot.
Then it appeared, from a remark from the pink-eyed one,
that he dined at the Carlton four jJ.ghts out of seven — stood
by the Carlton — hoped he might never enter a better club —
never met a cad there in his life. Fairly lived there when he
wasn't in Manchester.
' D'you live in Manchester ? ' drawled the thin gentleman,
quite agreeably. Now, what was there in that to make the
pink-eyed one angry ? Is IManchester a disreputable place
to live in ? But he was — as angry as possible. The pink
spread all over, under his close-trimmed whiskers and down
behind his collar. He answered, in extremely rasping and
sub-indignant tones, that he had a ' place near it,' and retired
from the conversation.
Then the rotund gentleman stated that there were {q.'n
better clubs than the Constitutional ; and then, what a view
you could get from the balconies ! ' Tremendous fine view,' he
said, ' I tell yen, at night, when the place is lighted up^ an'
the river in the distance '
' Moon ? ' inquired his companion, sweetly. But the stout
gentleman's robust sentiment failed him at this point, and he
A.y AMERICAX GIRL IX I.OXDON 1S7
tiirnctl the conversai ioii abniptlv to soinetlilnix else — a 'house-
party ' somewliere.
' Have you got what they call a pleasant invitation ? ' the
other asked ; and the portly one said Yes, in fact he had three,
with a smile of great satisfaction. Just then the train stopped,
and we all changed cars, and I, rejoining Lady Torquilin, lost
my entertaining fellow-passengers. I was sorry it stopped at
that point, because I particularly wanted to know what a house-
party and a pleasant invitation were — they seemed to me to be
idiomatic, and I had already begun to collect English idioms
to take home with me. In fact, I should have liked to have gone
on observing the landscape fi-om my unobtrusive corner all the
way to Aldershot if I could — these gentlemen made such inte-
resting incidents to the journey — though I know I have told
vou that two or three times before, without makinu' vou under-
stand in the least, I am afraid, how or why they did. There
was a certain opulence and indiflerencc about them which
differed from the kind of opulence and inditference you gene-
rally see in the United States in not being in the least assumed.
'J'liey did not ignore the fact of my existence in the corner —
they talked as if they were not aware of it. And they had
worn the conventionalism of England so long that it had become
a sort of easy uniform, which they didn't know they had on.
They impressed you as having always before them, uncon-
sciously, a standard of action and opinion — though their per-
ception of it might be as different as possible — and as conducting
themselves in very direct relation to that standard. I don't
say this because none of them used bad language or smoked
in my presence. The restraint was not to be deiined — a delicate,
all-pervasive thing ; and it was closely connected with a lack
1 88 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
of enthusiasm upon any subject, except tlie approacli to it the
rounded gentleman made with reference to the Constitutional
view. They could not he considcrc^d flippant, and yet their
talk pl-iyed very lightly upon the surface of their minds, making
no drafts npon any reserve store of information or opinion.
This was odd to me. I am sure no tliree Americans who knew
each other could travel together in a box about six by eight
without starting a theory and arguing about it seriously, or
getting upon politics, or throwing themselves into the conver-
sation in some way or other.
But I have no doubt that, to be impressed with such things
as these, you must be brought up in Chicago, where people are
different. Lady Torquilin was nnable to tell me anything about
the gentlemen from my description of them ; she said they were
exactly like anybody else, an^l as for gambling in stocks, she
had no sympathy with anybody \>"ho lost — seeming to think that
I had, and that that was what had attracted my attention.
The yonng officer was at Aldershot Station to meet us,
looking quite a different person in his uniform. I can't pos-
sibly describe the uniform, or you would know the regiment,
and possibly the officer, if you are acquainted with Aldershot —
which he might not like. But I may say, without fear of
identifying him, that he wore a red coat, and looked very hand-
some in it — red is such a popular colour among officers in
England, and so generally becoming. He was a lieutenant,
and his name was Oddie Pratte. By the time I found this out,
which was afterwards, when Mr. Pratte had occasion to write
two or three letters to me, which he signed in that way, I had
noticed how largely pet names cling to gentlemen in England
— not only to young gentlemen in the Army, but even to
middle-aged family men. Mr. Winterhazcl's name is Bertram,
' ODDIE I'ltATIIE '
190 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
and I sliould be interested to hear wht t lie would say if any one
addressed him as ' Bertie.' I think he would be mad, as "■e
say in America. If I had ever called him anything but Mr.
Winterhazel — which I have not — I would do it myself when I
return, just for an experiment. I don't think any gentleman
in the United States, out of pinafores, could be called ' Bertie '
with impunity. We would contract it into the brutal brevity of
*Bert,' and 'Eddie' to 'Ed,' and 'Wi'lie' to 'Will,' and
' Bubby ' to ' Bob.' But it is a real pleasing feature of your
civilisation, this overlapping of nursery tenderness upon maturer
years, and I hope it will spread. What 'Oddie' was derived
from I never got to know Mr. Pratte well enough to ask, but
he sustained it with more dignity than I would have believed
possible. That is the remarkable — at any rate a remarkable —
characteristic of you English people. You sustain eN'e-.y thing
with dignity, from your Lord Mayor's Show to your farthing
change. You are never in the least amused at yourselves.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 191
XVIII
* 4 WF"LY glad 3'on've been aljle to conic!' said ^fr. Pralfo,
-^^ leading the way to his dogcart, quite a marked figure, in
his broad red shoulders, among the dark-coloured crowd at tlio
station. ' There's so much going on in the village I was afraid
you'd change yonr mind. Frightful state df funic, I assure you,
every time the post came in ! ' Mr. I'ratte spoke to Lady
Torquilin, but looked across at me. AVe are considerably moro
simple than this in America. If a gentleman wants to say some-
thing polite to you, he never thinks of transmitting it through
somebody else. But your way is much the most convenient.
It gives one the satisfaction of being complimented without the
embarrassment of having to reply in properly negative terms.
So it was Lady Torquilin who said how sorry we should have
been to miss it, and I found no occasion for remark until wo
were well started. Then I made the unavoidable statement that
Aldershot seemed to be a pretty place, though I am afraid it
did not seriously occur to me that it was.
'Oh, it's a hole of sorts ! ' remarked INTr. Pratte. ' Put to
see it in its pristine beauty you should be hero when it rains.
It's adorable then ! ' P»y that time I had observed that ]\Ir.
Pratte had very blue eyes, with a great deal of laugh in them.
His complexion you could find in America only at the close of
the seaside season, among the people who have just come liomo,
and even then it would be patchy — it would not have the solid
192 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
rlclmess of tint that ]\[r. Prattc's had. It was a wliolesome
complexion, and it went very well with the rest of Mr. Pratte.
I liked its tones of brown and red, and the way it deepened in
his nose and the back of his neck. In fact, I might as well say
in the boGfinnin": that I liked ]Mr. Pratte alto<]fetlier — there was
something very winning abont him. His manner was vari-
able: sometimes extremely flippant, sometimes — and then he let
his eyeglass drop — profoundly serious, and sometimes, when he
had it in mind, preserving a level of cynical indifterence that
was impressively interesting, and seemed to stand for a deep and
unsatisfactory experience of life. Tor the rest, he was just a tall
young subaltern, very anxious to be amused, with a dog.
j\Ir. I'ratte went on to say that he was about the only man in
the place not on parade. There was some recondite reason for
this, which I have forgotten. Lady Torquilin asked him how his
mother and sisters were, and Le said : ' Oh, they were as fit as
possible, thanks, according to latest despatches,' which I at once
mentally put down as a lov'ely idiom for use in my next Chicago
letter. I wanted, above all tliings_^ to convince them at home
that I was wasting no time so far as the l.-aiguage was concerned ;
and I knew they would not understand it, which was, of course,
an additional pleasure. I would express myself very clearlv
about it though, I thouglit, so as not to suggest epilepsy or any-
thinof of that sort.
Americans are nearly always interested in public buildings.
We are very proud of our own, and generally point them out
to strangers before anything else, and I was surprised that Mr.
]^ratte mentioned nothing of the sort as we drove through
Aldershot. So the first one of any size or importance that met
my eye I asked him about. ' Tliat, I suppose, is your jail ?' I
said, with polite interest, as we came in sight of a long building
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 193
with that shnplicity of exterior that always characterises jails.
Our subaltern gave vent to a suppressed roar. ' What is she
saying now ? ' asked Lady Torquilin, who had not been paying
attention.
' She says — oh, I say, Auntie, what a score ! ]\Iiss Wick
lias just pointed out that building as Aldershot j'n7/'
I ' Isn't it?' said L
' I'm afraid ]Miss Wick is pullin' our log, Auntie ! *
Now, I was in the back seat, and what could have induced
I ^\y. Pratte to charge me with so unparalleled and impossible a
familiarity I couldn't imagine, not being very far advanced in
tlie language at the time ; but when Mr. Pratte explained that
■ the buildings I referred to were the officers' quarters, with hi3
own colonel's at one end — and ' Great Scott ! ' said Mr. Pratte,
going off again, ' What would the old man say to that ? ' — I felt
too much overcome by my own stupidity to think about it. I have
since realised that I was rather shocked. It was, of course, im-
possible to mention puljlic buildings again in any connection, and,
although I spent a long and agreeable day at Aldcrshot, if you
j were to ask me whether it had so much as a town pump, I
couldn't tell you. But I must say I am not of the opinion that
it had. To speak American, it struck me as being rather a
one-horse town, though nothing could be nicer than I found it
as a military centre.
We drove straight out of town to the parade-ground, over a
road that wound through rugged-looking, broken fields, yellow
with your wonderful flaming gorse and furze, which struck mo
as contrasting oddly with the neatness of your landscajies gene-
rally. When I remarked upon their uncultivated state, Mr.
Pratte said, w^ith some loftiness, that military operations wero
not advantageously conducted in standing corn — meaning wheat
0
i
194
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
— and I tlecidecl for ihe rest of (ho day to absorb infonnation,
as fur as possible, witliout inquiring for it.
It was a lovely day — no clouds, no dust, nothing but blue
sky, and sunshine on the gorse ; and plenty of people, all of
whom seemed to have extreme views upon the extraordinary
fineness of the weal her, were on their way to the parade-
ground, chielly driving in dogcarts. AVhenever we passed a
WE DUOYE STRAIGHT OUT 01'' roSVN TO THE PAllADE-OllOUNi) '
lady in anything more ambitious, ]\[r. Pratto invariably saluted
very nicely indeed, and told Lady 1'orquilin that she was tht>
wife of Colonel So-and-so, commanding the somethingth some-
thing. And I noticed all through the day what a great deal of
consideration these ladies received from everybod}^, and what
extraordinary respect was accorded to their husbands. I have
no doubt it is a class distinction of yours, and very proper ; but
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 195
1 could not liolp tliinking of the iiniiibcr of colonels and tlioir
families we have at home, and how little more wo think of
them on that account. Poppa's liead man in the baking-
powder business for years was n colonel — Colonel Canister ; so
is poppa himself — and I never knew eitlier of them show that
they thought anything- of it. I suppose momma's greatest friend
is ]Mrs. Colonel Pabbly, but that is because their tastes are
similar and their families about the same age. For that matter,
I daresay one-third of the visiting-cards momma receives have
* Colonel' between the ' Mrs.' and the last name. It is really
[ no particular distinction in America.
I AVe were rather lale, and all the bv'st places had been taken
up by the dogcarts of other people. The}' formed an ai)pareiitly
unbroken front, or, more properU', back, wherever we wanted to
get in. By some extraoi'dinary means, however, more as a
matter of course than anything else — it couldn't have been done
\ in America — ^Fr. Pnitte inserted his dogcart in an extremely
advantageous position, and I saw opposite, and far off, the long,
long double line of soldiers, stretching and wavering as the
country dipped and swelled under the sky. ' \\\ a minute,'
said ]\[r. TVatte, 'you'll hear the "furious joy'" — and an instant
later there came splitting and spitting against the blue, from
east to west, and from west to east, the chasing white smoke-
jets of the fen do joh. You have a few very good jokes in
]']nglanel.
It seemed to me that two of tlie bands which defied each
other for the rest of the morning began playing at that instant
to prevent any diminution in the furious joy, while the long line
of soldiers broke up into blocks, each block going off somewhere
by itself; and Mr. Pratte told Lady Torquilin about a dance in
town the night before, where he met a lot of people he loved.
0 2
196 AN AMERICAN GIRT. IN LONDON
' AVas the fair and only one tliere?' Lady Torqullin inquired
witli archness ; and Mr. Pratte's countenance suddenly became
rueful as he dropped his eyeglass. ' Yes,' he said ; ' but there's
a frost on — we don't play with each other anymore!' And
I believe other confidences followed, which I did not feel entitled
to hear, so I divided my attention between the two bands and
thejiarade. One band stood still at a little distance, and played
as hard as possible continually, and every regiment sent its own
band gloriously on ahead of it with the colonel, generally getting
the full significance out of a Scotch jig, which Mr. Pratte said was
the ' march-past.' It made a most magnificently effective noise.
I hope the person for whoso benefit that parade was chiefly
intended — I believe there is always some such person in connec-
tion with parades — was as deeply impressed with it as I was.
it was the first time I had ever seen English soldiers in bulk,
and they presented a threatening solidity which I should think
would be very uninteresting to the enemy. There are more
interstices in our reu'iments — I think it must be admitted that
we are nationally thinner than you are. Besides, what we are
still in the habit of calling ' our recent unpleasantness ' hap-
pened about a quarter of a century ago, and I shouldn't think
myself that a taste for blood could survive that period of peace
and comfort, to be very obvious. Certainly, Chicago parades
had not prepared me for anything so warlike as this. Not that
I should encourage anybody to open hostilities Avith us, however.
Though we are thin, we might be found lively.
The cavalry regiments were splendid, with the colonel's horse
as conscious as anybody of what was expected of him, as the
colonel's horse, stepping on ahead; and particularly the Lancers,
with their gay little pennons flying ; but there was not the
rhythmic regularity in their movement that was so beautiful to
AA' AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
197
SCO in tlio infantry coming aftor. Lady Torquilin found it very
absurd — there were so many points to notice that were more
admirabk' — that the
parade was that long,
saw from the rear as
once ; but it seemed to
of martial order in it,
That, and the swing of
gleam of the sun on
thing I liked best in the whole
quick, instant crinkle that we
every man bent his kuee at
me to have the whole essence
and to hold great fascination,
tlie Highlanders' kilts, and the
their philabegs, and the pride
* WITH THEIR GAY LITTLK PENNONS FLYING '
of their marching. That Aldershot Highland regiment, with its
screaming bagpipes, seemed, to my Chicago imagination, to have
198 Ay AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
liorilcrcrs, and I licartl tlio story of the Isjuidiila coloura, wifli
tlio (^iioeii's littlu ^'•old wrculh above tlieiu, tliut wont, preciouHly
furled, in tlio middle. T wished then — though it is not consistent
with the ^lonroo doctrine — that wo had a great standing army,
with traditions and a constant possibility of foreign fighting. It
may bo discouraging to the increase of the male popidation, but
it encourages sentiment, and is valuable on that account.
So they all came and passed and went, and came and
passed and went again, three times — the whole ten thousand
cavalry, infantry, artillery, commissariat, and)ul;ince, doctors,
mules, and all — with a great dust, and much music, and a
tremendous rattling and bumping when the long waggons came,
at the rear of which a sintflo soldier sat in each, with his le<xs
lianging down, looking very sea-sick and nnhnppy. And they
showed mo a prinee-subaltorn, walking through the dust besido
his company with the others. Nobody seemed to see anything
remarkable in this but me, so I thought it best to display no
surprise. But the nominal natui-o of some privileges in England
began to grow upon me. I also saw a nude — a stout, well-
grown, talented mule — who did not wish to parade. I was glad
of the misbehaviour of that mule. It reduced to some extent
the gigantic proportions of my respect for the British Army.
I met some of the colonels, and their wives and daughters,
afterwards, and in most cases I was lost in admiration of tho
military tone of the whole family. Chicago colonels often have
very little that is strikingly military about them, and their families
nothing at all. But here the daughters carried themselves erect,
moved stiffly but briskly, and turned on their heels as sharply as if
they were on the j)arade-ground. I suppose it would be difficult
to live in such constant association with troops and barracks, and
salutes and sentries, and the word of command, without assimi-
I
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 199
luting Romowliat of tlio distinctive clmrni of tliosc things ; and tlio
way some of tlio colonels' ladies clipped their sentences, and held
their shoulders, and otherwise identified themselves with their
regiments, was very taking. It explained itself further when I
saw the 'quarters' in which one or two of them kept house —
very pleasant quarlers, where wo received most interesting and
delightful hospitality. But it would be odd if domesticity in
a series of rooms very square and very similar, with ' C. 0.'
painted in black letters over all their doors, did not develop
something a liltlt^ different from the ordinary English lady
accustomed to cornices and po>7/t'/'e.N'.
Then came lunch at the mess, at which, as the colonel took
care of Lady Torquilin, I had the nndivided attention of Mr.
Oddie Pratte, which I enjoyed. ]Mr. I'ratte was curious upon
the subject of American girls at home — he told me lie began
to believe himself misinformed about them — seriouslv, and
dropping his eyeglass. lie would like to know accurat(>ly —
under a false impression one made such awkward mistaktV) —
well, for instance, if it were true that they wi're up to all son s
of games at home, how was it they were all so deucedly solemn
when they came over here ? Mr. Pratte hoped I wouldn't bo
offended — of course, he didn't mean that / was solemn — but —
well, I. knew what he meant — I mmi know ! And wouldn't I
have some more sugar for those strawberries ? ^ I like ci'owds
of sugar, don't you ? ' said .Mr. Oddie Pratte. Another thing,
he had always been told that they immediately wanted to see
AVhitechapel. Now he had asked every American girl he'd met
this season whether she had seen AVhitechapel, and not one of
'em had. He wasn't going to ask me on that account. They
didn't, as a rule, seem to see the joke of the thing. Mr. Pratte
would like to know if I had ever met the M'Clures, of New
York Nollio ^I'lUuiv was a givat pal cU' lus— and was (lisa|>-
pointotl that I luulu't. '.riio couvorsatldii turiunl to India, whlthor
W\\ Pratto's ivginuMit was onloroil to procood inunodiatoly, and
I ivcoivod a <j^ood doal of intonnatiou as to just how amusing lit'o
might bo niado thoro tVom Mr. Pratto. 'Thoy say a man
marries as soon as ho h\irus enough Anglo-Indian to [uvpose in ! '
lie remarked, with something like antieipative regret. ' First
ilanee apt Xo be fatal — bound Xo bowl over before the end o^ the
season. Sinda girl is known Xo be irresistible.' And Ladv
'ronpiilin, catching this last, put in her (nir in her own ininu-
table way. ' You're no nephew o( mim\ Oddie,' said she, ' if
you can't say '* Xo.'" AVluMvat I was M'ry sorry lor Oddie, and
for}::ave him everything.
There was tea on the lawn afterwards, and bagpipes to the
ful^ lung-power o^ three llighlandeis at once, walking up and
down, and beating time on the turf with oui» foot in a nuumer
that was simplv extraordinarv considering- the nature of what
they were playing ; ami conversation with more Aldershot ladies,
followed by an inspect icMi in a b.uly (^i^ Mr. Pratte's own particu-
lar corutM* 0*^ the barracks, full i>t' iniplemeuts {^'i war, ami
cliarming pluttograjihs, and the perfornuiuce i^fMr. Pratte's in-
tellectual, small dog. That ended tlu» Aldershot paradi-. "We
have so few parades of any sort in America, <>\cept when some-
body of importance dies — and then tlu^y are a[)t {y) be depressiug
— that I was particularly glad to have seen it.
AX ./J//;AVcVLV (/V/OZ /X LOXIWX 201
XIX
1)(H'PA'S iiiteros^ts in l.oiulou nocossltutiHl lils luiviiii^ lawvtM's
thore—Mossrs. Pink, rink iV IV., vi' Tlioapsielo. If you
know New York, vou will uudorstaml nu> wliou I sav that 1 Inul
always thought ChoapsiJo a kiuil oi' l>owory, probably full o(
scfoml-haud clothing shops and itv-froani }nii lours -t ho la.-t
phuv I should think of looking tor a rospectablo tirin of solicitors
in, ospooially after cherishing the idea all my life that London
lawyers >vere to be found only in Chancery iiane. Uut that wis
Messrs. Pink t'S: Pink's address, and the mistake was t>ne oi' the
larire number vou have been kind enouijh io correct for me.
^It was a matter of some regret to po[)pa that Messrs. Pink
*!;• Pink were bachelors, and could not very well be expected \o
exert themselves for me personally on that account ; two Mrs.
Piid<s, he thought, might have ilone a little to make it pleasant
forme in London, and would, probably, have put tlu>mselves out
more or less to do it. Put there was no Mrs. Pink, so 1 was
indebted to these gentlemen for monev onlv, which thev sent me
whenever T wrote to them tor it, by arrangement with poppa.
1 was surprised, therefore, to receive one morning an extrcuuly
])olile note li\nu Messr' Pink »It Pink, begging nu* to name
an afternoon when it would bo convenient for nu> to call at
their otlice, in order that Messrs. Pink t!v: Pink might luive the
honour of discussing with me iv matter oi' private business
importunt to mvself. I tlumght it tlelightfully exciting,
202 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
and wrote at once tliat I would come next day. I speculated
considerably in the meantime as to what the important private
matter could possibly be — since, beyond my address, Messrs.
]*ink & Pink knew nothing whatever of my circumstances in
London — but did not tell Lady Torquilin, for fear she would
think she ought to come with me, and nothing spoils an important
private matter like a third person.
'1st Floor, Messrs. Dickson & Dawes, Architects; 2nd
Floor, Norwegian Life Insurance Co. ; 3rd floor, jSIessrs. Pink &
I'ink, Solicitors,' read the framed directory inside the door
in black letters on a yellow ground. I looked round in vain for
an elevator-boy, though the narrow, dark, little, twisting
stairway was so worn that I might have known that the pro-
jDrietors were opposed to this innovation. I went from floor to
floor rejoicing. At last I had found a really antique interior in
London ; there was not a cobweb lacking in testimony. It was
the very first I had come across in my own private investigations,
and I had expected them all to be like this.
Four or five clerks were writing at high desks in the rocm
behind the frosted-glass door with ' Pink & Pink ' on it. There
was a great deal of the past in this room also, and in its associations
— impossible to realise in America — which I found gratifying.
The clerks were nearly all elderly, for one thing — grey-headed
men. Since then I've met curates of about the same date.
The curates astonished me even more than the clerks. A
curate is such a perennially young person with us. You
would find about as many aged schoolboys as elderly curates in
America. I suppose our climate is more favourable to rapid
development than yours, and they become full-fledged clergymen
or lawyers after a reasonable apprenticeship. If not, they must
come within the operation of some evolutionary law by which they
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
203
disappear. America is a place wliere there is very little room
for anachronisms.
Beside the elderly clerks, the room liad an air of old leather,
and three large windows with yellow blinds pmned vp — in these
days of automatic rollers. Through the windows I noticed the
cheerful chimneys and spires of London, E.G., rising out of that
lovely atmospheric tone of yellow which is so becoming to them ;
and down below — if I could only have got near enough — 1 am
cerhiin I should have seen a small dismantled graveyard, with
mossy tombstones of different sizes a long way out of the
perpendicular. I have become accustomed to finding graveyards
in close connection with business enterprise in London, and they
appeal to me. It is very nice of you to
let them stay just where they were put
originally, when you are so crovrded.
At home there isn't a dead person in
existence, so to speak, that would have
a chance in a locality like Cheapside.
And they must suggest to you all sorts
of useful and valuable things about the
futility of ambition and the deceitful-
ness of riches down there under vour
very noses, as it were, whenever you
pause to look at them. I can quite
understand your respect for them, even
in connection with what E.G. frontage
prices must be, and I hope, though
I can't be sure, that there was one
attached to the oflSces in Cheapside of Messrs. Pink & Pink.
The clerks all looked up with an air of inquiry when I went
in, and I selected the only one who did not immediately duck
WITH AN AIIl OF
INQUinV '
204 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
to Lis work again for my interrogation. It was an awkward
interrogation to make, and I made it awkwardly. ' Are tlie
Mr. Pinks in ? ' I asked ; for I did not know in the least how
many of them wanted to see me.
' I believe so, miss,' said the elderly clerk, politely, laying
down his pen. 'Would it be Mr. A. Pink, or Mr. W. W.
Pink ? '
I said I really didn't know.
'Ah! In that case it would be Mr. A. Pink, Shouldn't
you say so ? ' — turning to the less mature clerk, who responded
loftily, from a great distance, and without looking, ' Probably.'
AVhereupon the elderly one got down from his stool, and took
me himself to the door with ' Mr. A. Pink ' on it, knocked,
spoke to someone inside, then ushered me into the presence of
Mr. A. Pink, and withdrew.
The room, I regret to say, did not match its surroundings,
and could not have been thought of in connection with a grave-
yard. It was quite modern, with a raised leather wall-paper
and revolving chairs. I noticed this before I saw the tall, thin,
depressed-looking gentleman who had risen, and was bowing to
me, at the other end of it. He was as bald as possible, and
might have been fifty, with long, grey side-whiskers, that fell
upon a suit of black, very much wrinkled where Mr. Pink did
not fill it out. His mouth was abruptly turned down at the
corners, with lines of extreme reserve about it, and whatever
complexion he might have had originally was quite gone, leaving
only a modified tone of old-gold behind it. ' Dear me ! ' I
thought, ' there can be nothing interesting or mysterious here.'
Mr. Pink first carefully ascertained whether I was ]\Iiss
Wick, of Chicago ; after which he did not shake hands, as I had
vaguely expected him to do, being poppa's solicitor, but said,
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 205
* Prny be seated, jNIiss Wick ! ' — and we both sat down in tlio
revolving cliairs, preserving an unbroken gravity.
' You have been in London some weeks, I believe, Miss
Wick,' said Mr. A, Pink, tentatively. He did not know quite
how long, because for tlio first month I had plenty of money,
without being obliged to apply for it. I smiled, and said
' Yes ! ' with an inflection of self-congratulation. I was very
curious, but saw no necessity for giving more information than
was actually asked for.
' Your — ah — father wrote us that you were coming over
alone. That must have required great courage on the part of —
liere Mr. Pink cleared his throat — ' so young a lady ; ' and Mr.
Pink smiled a little narrow, drearj' smile.
' Oh, no ! ' I said, ' it didn't, Mr. Pink.'
' You are — ah — quite comfortable, I hope, in Cadogan
Mansions. I thlnh it is Cadogan ]\ransions, is it not ? — Yes.'
' Very comfortable indeed, thank you, IMr. Pink. They aro
comparatively modern, and the elevator makes it seem more or
less like home.'
]\rr. Pink brightened ; he evidently wished me to be discur-
sive. ' Indeed ! ' he said — ' Ye-es ? '
' Yes,' I returned ; ' when I have time I always use the
elevator.'
' That is not, I think, the address of the lady your father
mentioned to us as your only relative in London, Miss Wick ? '
' Oh no,' I responded, cheerfully ; ' ]\rrs. Cummers Portheris
lives in Half-Moon Street, ^Mr. Pink.'
' Ah, so I understand. Pardon the incpiiry, ^liss Wick, but
was there not some expectation on your father's part that you
would pass the time of your visit in London with Mrs.
PorLheris ? '
2c6 AN AMKRICAX GIRL /X LOXDOX
' On all our parts, Mr. Piiik. Jkit it vaiiislied the day after
1 arrived' — and I could not help smiling as I remembered the
letter I had written from the ^letropole telling the Wick family
about my reception by my affectionate relation.
Mr. Pink smiled too, a little doubtfully as well as drearily
this time. He did not seem to know quite how to proceed.
' I'ardon me again, ]\liss Wick, but there must be occasions,
I should think, when you would feel your — ah — comparative
isolation' — and ]\[r. Pink let one of his grey whiskers run through
his long, thin hand.
' ^'ery seldom,' I said ; 'there is so much to see in London,
^\\\ Pink. Even the store-windows are entertaining to a
stranger' — and I wondered more than ever what was coming.
'I see — 1 see. You make little expeditions to various points
of interest — the Zoological (hardens, the Crystal Palace, and so
forth.'
It began to be like the dialogues in the old-fashioned read-
ing-books, carefully marked ' Q.' and ' A.'
*Yes,' I said, 'I do. I haven't seen the Zoo yet, but I\o
seen ]\Irs. Por ' ; there I stopped, knowing that Mr. ]'ink
could not be expected to perceive the sequence of my ideas.
Put he seemed to conclude that he had ascertained as much
as was necessary. ' I think, Miss Wick,' he said, ' we nnut
come to the point at once. You have not been in England
long, and you may or may not be aware of the extreme difli-
culty which attaches — er — to obtaining — that is to say, which
Amer — foreigners find in obtaining anything like a correct idea
of — of social institutions here. To a person, I may say, with-
out excellent introductions, it is, generally speaking, impos-
sible.'
I said I bad heard of this difficulty.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
207
*IT BEaAN TO BE LIKE THE DI.VLOOUES IN THE OLD-FASIIIOXED READING -BOOK*'
2o8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
' I do not know whether you, personally, have any curiosity
upon this point, but '
I hastened to say that I had a great deal.
* But I should say that it was probable. There are few
persons of j'our intelligence, IMiss Wick, I venture to hazard, by
whom a knowledge of ]"]nglish society, gained upon what might
be termed a footing of intimacy, would fail to be appreciated.'
I bowed. It was flattering to be thought intelligent by j\Ir.
]^ink.
' The question now resolves itself, to come, as I have said,
straight to the point. Miss Wick, into whether you would or
would not care to take steps to secure it.'
' That would depend, I should think, upon the nature of the
stops, ^Ir. I'ink. I may as well ask you immediately whether
they have anything to do with Miss Purkiss.'
' Nothing whatever — nothing whatever ! ' Mr. Pink hastened
to assure me. ' I do not know the lady. The steps which
have recommended themselves to me for you would be taken
r.pon a — upon a basis of mutual accommodation, J\liss Wick,
involving remuneration, of course, upon your side.'
' Oh ! ' said I, comprehendingh'-.
'And in connection with a client of our own — an old, and, I
may sny, a highly-cs'/eemetr — and Mr. Pink made a little
respectful forward inclination of his neck — ' client of our own.'
I left the burden of explanation wholly to Mr. Pink, content-
ing myself with looking amiable and encouraging.
' A widow of Lord Bandobust,' said JMr. Pink, with an eye
to the effect of this statement. The effect was bad — I could
not help wondering how many Lord Bandobust had, and said,
' Really ! ' w4tli an effort to conceal it.
' Lady Bandobust, somewhat late in life — this, of course, is
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
209
confidential, ]\liss AVick — finds herself in a position to — to ap-
preciate any slight addition to lier income. His lordship's
rather peculiar will — but I need not go into that. It is, perhaps,
' I WAS TAKEN BY SURPRISi: '
sufficient to say that Lady Bandobust is in a position to give
you every advantage, Miss Wick — e\:cv\j advantage.'
This was fascinating, and I longed to hear more. ' It
seems a little indefinite,' said I to Mr. Pink.
210 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
' It does, certainly — you ;ire (juite right, Miss Wick — it does.
Beyond iipproaching you, liowever, and ascertaining your views,
I am not instructed to act in tlic matter. Ascertaining your
views in particular, I should say, as ri'gards the sum mentioned
by liady Bandobust as a — a proper ecpiivalent — ahem ! '
* AVliat is her latlyship's charge ? ' I intpiired.
' Lady Bandobust would expect three hundi'ed pounds. ^Fy
client wi.^hes it to be understood that in naming this figure she
takes into consideration the fact that the season is already well
()})ened,' Mr. Pink said. ' Of course, additional time must be
allowed to enable you to wiitc to your parents,'
' I see,' I said ; ' it does not strike me as exorbitant, Afr.
IMnk, considering wliat Lady Bandobust has to sell.'
Air. rink smiled rather uncomfortably. 'You Americans
are so humorous,' he said, with an attempt Jit affability.
' AVell ' — drawing both whiskers through his hand conclusively,
and suddeidy standing up — ' will you step this way, ^Miss Wick ? f
My client has done mo the honour of calling in person about
this matter, and as your visits, oddly enough, coincide, you will \
bo glad of the opportunity of going into details wdtli her.' And
Air. A. Pink opened the door leading into the room of Mr. W.
W. Pink. I was taken by surprise, but am afraid I should
have gone in even after time for mature deliberation, I was !-o
deeply, though insincerely, interested in the details.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
211
XX
iDY BAXnoBUST, may
I liaw tlio lioiionr of in-
trodiicincjr Miss AVick, of
riiicago?' saicKAIr. Pink,
f oleniiily, jjowing as if lie
Linif^elf wero Icing introduced
to someljody. ' I could not do
betlei-, I am sure, Miss Wick,
than leave you in Lady Bando-
bust's hands ' — with which
master-stroke of politeness Mr.
Pink withdrew, leavincr me,
as he said, in Lady Bando-
bust's hands. She was a little
old woman in black, witli
sharp eyes, a rather large,
hooked nose, and a discon-
tented mouth, over which
hovered an expression of being actively bored. She had sloping
shoulders, and little thin fingers in gloves much too long for
them, and her bonnet dated back five seasons. Her whole
appearance, without offering any special point for criticism,
suggested that appreciation of any pecuniary advantage of which
Mr. Pink had spoken, though her manner gave me definitely to
P 2
21:
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
unclerslaiul tliat slio did not caro one jot about it. She was
looking out of the window when j\lr. I'ink and I came in, and
' LADY BAXDOBTJST '
after acknowledging my bow with a small perfunctory smile, a
half-effort to rise, and a vague vertebral motion at the back of
A.V AMICRICAX (;/A'A IX LOXDON 213
her neck, she looked out of tlio window ai^'ain. I uni convinced
tliat there was notliin*:^ in the view that coukl possibly interest
lier, yet consta?itly, in the course of our conversation, Lady
Bandobust looked out of the window. 8ho was tlio most un-
interested person T have had the pleasure of talkinfj to in
I]niifland.
I said it was a lovely day.
* Yes,' said Lady Bandobust. ' Mr. Pink tells me you are an
American, ]\Iiss AVick, thonjj^h anybody could see that much.
He knows your father, I believe ? '
* Not personally, I thiidc,' I returned. * Poppa has never
visited England, Lady Bandobust.'
* Perhaps we had better say " financially,'' then — knows him
financially.'
' I daresay that is all that is necessary,' I said, innocently at
the time, though I have since understood Lady Bandobust's
reason for looking at me so sliarply.
* You come from Chinchinnatti, I understand from Mr. Pink,'
she continued.
' I beg your pardon ? Oh, Cincinatti ! No, from Chicago,
Lady Bandobust.'
' I understood from lsh\ Pink that you came from Chincliin-
natti — the place where people make millions in tinned pork. I
had a nephew there for seven years, so I ought to know some-
thing about it,' said Lady Bandobust, with some asperity. ' But
if you say you are from Chickago, I have no doubt you are
right.'
' Mr,, Pink informed me,' continued Lady Bandobust, * that
he thought you might feel able to afford to see a little of English
society. I've noticed that Americans generally like to do that
if they can.*
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AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 215
I said I was sure it would l;o iiitorestinuf.
' Ifc is very difficult,' said Lady Eandobust — ' oxtromoly
difficult. It is impossible that you sliould know how difficult
it is.'
I remarked modestly, by w\ay of reply, that I believed few
thijn-s worth haviim* were casv to g-ct.
Lady Baiidobiist ignored the generalisation. ' As ^Ir. Pirdc
lias probably told you, it cos^s money," said she, with another
little concessive smile.
' Then, perhaps, it is not so dillicult after all,' I replied,
amiably.
Lady Bandobust gave me another sharp look. ' Only you
rich Americans can afford to s;iv that,' she said. ' Jiut ^NFr. Pink
has told me that flie expense would in all likelihood be a matter
of indifference to your people. That, of course, is important.'
' Poppa doesn't scrimp,' I said. * He likes us to have a good
time.'
' Regardless,' said Lady Bandobust — ' regardless of the cost !
That is very liberal.'
' Americans,' she went on, ' in English society are very
fortunate. They are always considered as — as Americans, you
understand '
' I'm afraid I don't,' said I.
' And I think, on the whole, they are ratlier liked. Yes
generally speaking, I think I may say they are liked.'
I tried to express my gratification.
' As a rule,' said Lady Bandobust, absently, ' they spend so
much money in England.'
' There can be no doubt of the (tdcantiujes of an experience
of English society,' she continued, ratlier as if I had suggested
one. ' To a young lady especially it is invaluable — it leads to
2i6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
so mucli. I don't know quite to wliat extent you would ex-
pect ' Here Lady Bandobust paused, as if waiting for data
on wliicli to proceed.
'I would expect ?' I repeated, not quite understanding.
' But I think I could arrange a certain number of balls, say
four ; one or two dinners — you wouldn't care mucli about dinners,
though, I dare say ; a few good " at homes " ; a Saturday or so at
Hurlingham — possibly Ascot ; but, of course, you know every-
thing would depend upon yoiu'self.'
' I could hardly expect you to make me enjoy myself. Lady
Bandobust,* I said. ' That altogether depends upon one's
own capacity for pleasure, as you say.'
'Oh, altogether! ' she returned. ' Well, we might say six
balls — thoroughly good ones ' — and Lady Bandobust looked at
me for a longer time together than she had yet — ' and fossiUij
the lloyal Inclosure at Ascot. I say '• possil>ly " because it is
very difficult to get. And i house-party to finish np with, which
really ought to be extra, as it doesn't properly belong to a
London season ; but if I can at all see my way to it,' Lady
Bandobust went on, ' I'll put it into the three hundred. There
are the Allspices, who have just bought Lord Frere ton's place
in Wilts — I could take (i;///body there ! '
' Your friends must bo very obliging. Lady Bandobust,'
said I.
' The Private View is over,' said Lady Bandobust ; ' but
there is the Academy Soiree in June, and the lloyal Colonial
Institute, and a few tilings like that.'
* It sounds charming,' I remarked.
' We might do something about the Four-in-hand,' Lady
Bandobust continued, with some impatience.
* Yes ? ' I said.
A.V AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 217
There was a pause, in wliicli I cast about nie for some way
of escape. I felt tliat my interest in Lady Bandobust was
exhausted, and that I could not pretend to entertain lier scheme
any longer with self-respect. Besides, by this time I cordially
hated her. But I could think of no formula to retreat under,
and resigned myself to sit there helplessly, and defend myself as
best I could, until I was dismissed.
Lady Bandobust produced her last card. ' The Duchess of
Dudlington gives a/e/e on the twelfth,' she said, throwing it, as
it w^ere, upon the table. * I should probably be able to take you
there,'
' The Duchess of Dudlington?' said I, in pure stupidity.
*Yes. And she is rather partial to Americans, for some
extraordinary reason or another.' The conversation flagged
again.
' Presentation — if that is what yon are thinking of — w^ould
be extra, Miss AVick,' Lady Bandobust stated, firmly.
' Oh ! — how much extra, Lady Bandobust ? '
My prospective patroness did not hesitate a minute. ' Fifty
pounds,' she said, and looked at me inquiringly.
' I — I don't think I was thinking of it, Lady Bandobust,'
I said. I felt mean, as we say in America.
' Yon were not! Well,' said she, judicially, 'I don't know
that I would advise the outlay. It is a satisfactory thing to
h.ave done, of course, but not nearly so essential as it used to be
—nothing like. You can get on without it. And, as you say,
fift}- pounds is fifty pounds.'
\ knew I hadn't said that, but found it impossible to assert
'he fact.
' Miss Boningsbill, whom I took out last season, I did pre-
sent,' Lady Bandobust continued ; ' but she went in for every-
1
2i8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
tiling — perhaps more extensively than you would be disposed to
do. It might facilitate matters — giv^e you an idea, perhaps — if
I were to tell you my arrangements with ]\Iiss Boningsbill.'
' I should like to hear them,' I said.
* She did not live with me — of course, chaperonage does nob
imply residence, you understand that. When she went out with
me she called for me in her brougham. She had a brougham
by the month, and a landau for the park. I should distinctly
advise you to do the same. I would, in fact, make the arrange-
ment for you. I know a very reliable man.' Lady Bandobusfc
paused for my thanks.
'Generally speaking, Miss Boningsbill and I went out to-
gether; but when I found this particularly inconvenient, she
took one carriage and I the other, though she always had her
choice. I stqndated only to take her to the park twice a
week, but if nothing interfered I went oftener. Occasionally I
took her to the play — that bores me, though. I hope you are
not particularly fond of the theatre. And then she usually found
it less expensive to get a box, as there were generally a few other
people who could be asked with advantage — friends of my own.'
' She had a box at Ascot, too, of course,' Lady Bandobubt
went on, looking down her nose at a fly in the corner of the
window-pane ; ' but that is a matter of detail.'
' Of course,' I said, because I could think of nothing else
to say.
' I gave her a ball,' Lady Bandobust continued ; ' that is to
say, cards were sent out in my name. That was rather bungled,
though — so many friends of mine begged for invitations for
friends of theirs that I didn't know half the people. And Miss
Boningsbill, of course, knew nobody. Miss Boningsbill was dis-
satisfied about the cost, too. I was foolish enough to forget to
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 219
tell her beforehand. Everything came from my own particular
tradespeople, and, uainrally, nothing was cheap. I never niggle,*
said Lady Bandobust, turning her two little indifferent black
eyes full upon nio.
' Miss Boningsbill insisted on having her name on the cards
as well,' she said: '" Lady Bandobust and Miss Boningsbill,"
you understand. That I should not advise — very bad form, I
call it.'
' She was married in October,* Lady Bandobust continued,
casually. The second son of Sir Banbury Slatte — the eldest
had gone abroad for his health. I knew the Banbury Slattes
extremely well — excellent family.'
' ]\Iiss Boningsbill,' Lady Bandobust went on, absently, ' had
nothing like your figure.'
' Was she an American ? ' I asked.
*No — ]\[anchcster,' answered Ladv Bandobust, laconical! v.
' Cotton-spinners.'
'My dressmaker tells me she finds a marked differenco
between English and American figures,' I remarked ; ' but I am
afraid it is not to our advantage. Wo are not nearly so fine as
you are.'
' Ah ! ' said Lady Bandobust. ' Who U your dressmaker ?
she asked with interest.
' I spoke of the firm whose place of business, though not
I mentioned in any guide-book, I had found to repay many visits.
'Oh, those people!' said Lady Bandobust. 'Dear, I call
them. Smart enough for evening frocks, but certainly not to
be depended upon for anything else. I should strongly advise
you to try Miss Pafty, in Regent Street, and say I sent you.
And for millinery, do let me recommend IMadame Marie. I
would give you a note to her. An excessivehj clever woman —
a
i
220 AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
personal friend of my own. A liusband and two sons to support,
so she makes bonnets. I J>eUeve the Princess goes to her
regularly. And you pay very little more than you do any-
where else. And now, with regard to our little scheme, what do
you think, :\[iss Wick ? '
' Ileally, Lady IJandobust,' said I, ' I am afraid I must think
about it.' A decided negative was an utter impossibility at the
time.
' Ah ! ' said Lady Bandobust, ' perhaps you think my terms
a little high — just a trifle more than you expected, perhaps.
Well, suppose we say two hundred and fifty ? '
' I had no expectations whatever about it, Lady Bandobust,'
I said ; ' I knew nothing of it up to about an hour ago.'
' Two hundred,' said Lady Bandobust.
' I am afraid I have no idea of the value of — of such things,
Lady Bandobust,' I faltered.
' I can bring it as low as one hundred and fifty,' she
returned, ' but it would not be quite the same, Miss Wick — you
could not expect that.'
The rest of the conversation, which I find rather painful to
call to memory, may perhaps be imagined from the fact that
Lady Bandobust finally brought her offer down to seventy-five
pounds, at which point I escaped, taking her address, promising
to write her my decision in the course of a day or two, and feel-
ing more uncomfortably contemptible than ever before in my
life. We happened to be making visits in Park Lane next day,
and as Lady Bandobust lived near there, I took the note myself,
thinking it would be more polite. And I found the locality, in
spite of its vicinity to Park Lane, quite extraordinary for Lady
Bandobust to have apartments in. ♦-.
AX AMERICAxN GIRL IN LOXDON 221
I met Lady Bandobust once again. It was at an ' at home '
given by Lord and Lady Mafferton, where everybody was asked
' to meet ' a certain distinguished traveller. Oddly enou.di I
was introduced to her, and we had quite a long chat. B^ut I
noticed that she had not caught my name as my hostess pro-
nounced it-she called me ' Miss Winter ' during the whole of
our conversation, and seemed to have forgotten that we had
ever seen each other before ; which was disagreeable of her in
my opinion. '
222 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
XXI
I WENT to Ascot with the 13angloy Codins— Mr., :^^rs., and the
two Misses liangh^y Coffin. I didn't know tlie Bangley
Coffins very well, but they were kind enough to ask Lady Tor-
(juilin if I might go with them, and l^ady Torquilin con-
sented with alacrity. ' You couldnH go awaj'' from England
without seeing Ascot,' said she. ' It would be a sin ! It's far
too much riot for me ; besides, I can't bear to see the wretched
horses. If they would only learn to race without beating the
jioor beasties ! To say nothing of the expense, which I call
enormous. 80 by all means go with the Bangley Coffins, child
— they're lively people — I daresay you'll enjoy yourself.'
Lady Torquilin was surprised and disappointed, how^ever,
when she learned that the party would go by train. ' I wonder
at them,' she said, referring to the Bangley Coffins ; ' they know
such a lot of people. I would have said they were morally cer-
tain to be on somebody's drag. Shall you care to go by train ? '
AVhereupon I promptly assured Lady Torquilin that I was only
too happy to go any way.
So we started, the morning of the Gold Cup day, I and the
Bangley Coffins. I may as well describe the Bangley Coffins, in
the hope that they may help to explain my experiences at Ascot.
I have to think of j\Irs. Bangley Coffin very often myself, when
I try to look back intelligently upon our proceedings.
Mrs. Bangley Coffin was tall, with a beautiful figure and pale
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 223
gold hair. The ]\Iisses Bangley Coffin were also tall, with
prospectively beautiful figures and pale gold hair. I never saw
such a resemblance between mother and daughters as tliere was
between the ]Misses Bangley Coffin and their mamma. They sat
up in the same way, their shoulders had the same slope, their
elbows the same angle. The same lines developed on the
countenance of Mrs. Bangley Coffin were undeveloped on the
countenances of the Misses Bangley Coffin. Except in some
slight matter of nose or eyes, Mr. Bangley Coffin hardly suggested
himself in either of the young ladies. AVhen they spoke, it was
in their mother's voice and in their mother's manner — a manner
that impressed you for the moment as being the only one in the
world. Both they and their mamma had on dresses which it
was perfectly evident they had never worn before, and of which
they demanded my opinion with a frankness that surprised me.
' What do you think,' said they, ' of our Ascot frocks ? ' I
admired them very much; they represented, amongst them,
nearly all the fashionable novelties, and yet they had a sort of
conventional originality, if I may say such a thing, which was
extremely striking. Tliey seemed satisfied with my applause, but
promptly fell upon me for not meriting applause myself. ' "W'e
saw you,' they said unitedly, ' in that frock last Sunday in the
park ! ' — and there was a distinct reproach in the way they said
it. ' It's quite charming ! ' they assured me — and it was — ' but
it's not as if you hadn't quantities of them ! Do you mean to say
Lady Torquilin didn't tell you you ought to have a special frock
for Ascot ? ' ' She said I should do very well in this,' I declared,
' and that it would be a sin to buy another ; I had much better
give the money to Dr. Barnardo ! ' Whereat Mrs. Bangley
Coffin and the two Misses Bangley Coffin looked at one another
and remarked, ' How like Lady Torquilin ! '
224
AiV AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
' I tlidn't givo it to Dr. IJariiardo,' 1 continued — to which
Mrs. Bangley Coffin rejoined, in parentliesis, ' I should hope
not ' — ' but I'm <^dad Lady TorquiUn did not advise me to get
an Ascot frock, though yours are very pretty. I feel that I
couldn't have sustained one — I haven't the personality ! ' And
indeed this was quite true. It occurred to mo often again
through the day ; I could not have gone about inside an Ascot
frock without feeling to some extent the helpless and meaning-
less victim of it. The Bangley Coffin girls thought this supreme
nonsense, and declared that I could carry anything off, and Mrs.
Bangley Coffin said.
I
with pretended se- v
verity, that it was }
not a question of t
feeling but of loolc- \
ing ; but they united \\
in consoling me so e
successfully that I a
at last believed my- si
self dressed to jjer- o
fection for Ascot — t.
if I had only worn ai
something else to |1
the park the Sun- ai
day before ! t«
The husband t
and father of the \t
Bangley Coffins was ~
a short, square- m
shouldered gentleman with bushy eyebrows, a large mous- in
tache, plaid trousers, and a grey tail-coat that was a very tJi
MR. BANGLEY COFFIN.
i
i AN AMKlUCAN GIRL /X LOXDOX 225
tl^'ut fit rouiul tlio waist, lie liiid an expression C'f deep
sa<^acity, antl lie took from an inner pocket, and fondled now
and then, a case containing six very large brown cigars. His
look of peculiar anticipative intelligence, combined with the
cigars, gave me the idea that we should not be overburdened
with^fr. Bangley Coflin's society during the day — which proved
to be a correct one.
It did not seem to me, in spite of what Lady Torquilin had
Eaid, that it was at all unpopular to go to Ascot by rail. Trains
1^'ere leaving the station every four or live minutes, all full of
people who preferred that way of going ; and our own car,
which was what, I believe, you call a ' saloon carriage,' had
hardly an empty seat. They looked nice respectul)le people,
too, nearly all in Ascot frochs, though not perhaps particularly
interesting. What surprised me in connection with the ride
T\as the length of it ; it was not a ride, as I had somehow
expected, of twenty minutes or lialf an liour from London, but
a journey of, I forget how many, interminable hours. And what
surprised me in connection with the people was their endurance
of it. They did not fuss, or grow impatient, or consult their
t.atches as the time dragged by ; they sat up, calm and placid
fnd patient, and only looked occasionally, for refreshment, at
iheir Ascot frocks. They seemed content to take an enormous
Amount of trouble for the amusement which might be supposed
10 be tickling their fancy at the other end of the trip— if there
'as any other end — to take it unshrinkingly and seriously.
[t gave me an idea of how difficult it is to be amused in England
-unless vou are a forei«?ner. Ascot to them was no lij^ht
latter, and to me it was such a very light matter. I tried to
lagine any fifty Americans of my acquaintance dressing up in
leir best clothes, and speeding six or seven hours of a day
Q
226 yiA' AMERICAN GIRT. IN LONDON
in prolractt'd iiiilwiiy journeys, for tlio sake of ;i lidlc fun in
between ; and I failetl. It's as iiuicli as we would do to inaugu-
rate a prewident, or bury a p^eneral who saved tlio Union.
We won Id consider llio terms lii<,di. But, of course, it is impos- j
sible for mo to say liow we might beliave if we had Distinguislied
Occasions, with lloval Inclosures inside them.
AVc started witli a sense of disappointment, wliich seemed
to comr^ in through the windows and enveh)p tlie Bangley
rV)fllns, becanso ' some people ' they had expected failed to
appear upon the platform. ]\Ir. liangley Collin looked par-
ticularly depressed. 'Don't see how the deuce we're going to
arrange!' he said to ]\lrs. Bangley Coflin, with nnction. 'Oh,
there's sure to be toniebody, Joey, love!' she returned, cheer-
fully; ' and in any case, yon see, we have you.' To which ^Fr.
J juii^il '.''*' Collin gave a dubious and indistinct assent. I did
not get on well wlllt ^'r. j^angley Coffin. He seemed to mean
well, but he had a great many phrases which I did not in the '
least nnderstand, and to which ho invariably added, '7\s you i
say in America.' It was never by any chance a thing we did
say in America, but nothing could make J\rr. Bangley Coffin |j
believe that. I can't say that we had mnch general conversa- f ]
tion either, but in what there was I noticed great good-feeling
between the ]\Iisses Bangley Coffins and their mamma.
' The bonnet of that Israelite at the other end of the
carriage wonld suit you to a "T", mummie,' one of them re-^
marked in joke. The bonnet was a terrible affair, in four shades ^
of heliotrope. IC
'Yes,' replied Mrs. Bangley Coffin, smiling quite good-ltl
naturedly ; ' that's about my form.' iai
The Bangley Coffins were all form. Form, for them, regu-t"
lated existence. It was the all-compelling law of the spheres,»'e
AJV AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 227
tho test of all liiiiiiaii ,'ictioii uiul desire. 'CJood form' wns Iho
iilLiinute expression of their respect, ' IkuI loriii ' their liii:il tleclu-
ration of cont(>iTipt. I'l-rhaps I should inisjiidge the nan^-jey
('odins if I said form was tlieir conscience, and I don't want to mis-
judge them — they were very pleasant to me. ]3ut I don't think
they would liavo cared to risk their ett'nial salvation upon any
religious tenets that were not entirely comvio H faut — I nu'an
the ladies Bangley Coffin. The head of their house twisted his
moustache and seemed more or less indillerent.
There is no doul)t that, in the end, we did got to Ascot, and
left our dust-cloaks in charge of that oMii^'inu,- miildle-agcd i)erson
O lit) ij 1
who is to be found in every ladies' waiting-room in l"]ngland.
There was some discussion as to whether wo should or should
not leave our dust-cloaks with her — they were obviously' uiilx^-
coming, but, obviously also, it might rain. However, in the
end we did. INFrs. Ijangley Coflin thought we might trust to
i'rovidence, and Providence proved itself worthy of ^[rs. l^angloy
Coffin's confidence.
Again, as we joined tho crowd that surged out of the station,
I noticed that look of anxious expectancy on the face of tho
Eanglev Coflin faniilv. It was keener than before, and all-
embracing. I even fancied I noticed an understood division of
survey — an arrangement by which ^Ir. Eangley Coflin looked
to the north, and ]\[rs. Bangley Coflin to the south, one young
lady to the east, and the other to the west. ' AVe really must
keep an eye open,' said ^Mr. Bangley Coffin. ' Coming this way ?
"Oh ! Hullo, I'ipply, old man ! Hare you ? ' with extreme cor-
iliality, to a short, very stout gentleman in grey, with a pink face
nd a hooked nose, and a white moustache, and a blue-spotted
,|necktie — a New Yorker, I was sure, before he spoke. Pipply
responded with very moderate transports, and shook hands
q2
2 2S Ay AMERICA:.! CIRL IX LOXDOX
liastily with tlie laJiea attached to Mr. Bangley Coffin. 'Airs.
Pipply's with yon, I see,' continued Mr. Bangley Cofiin, joyously,
' and that charming sister of hers ! Kitty, we mud see whether
they have forgotten us, mustn't we ? ' — and he and Kitty advanced
upon two very much-accented fair ladies in frilled inuslins and
large flowery hats. They were dressed as fashionably as Bond
Street could dress them, and they were as plump and pretty as
could be, but perhaps just a little too big and blue of eye and
pink-and-white of complexion quite to satisfy the Bangley Cofiin
idea of ' form.' It Avould be difficult" to account otherwise for
what they did. For the Pipplj^s, they were very amiable, but,
as you might say, at bay ; and after reproaching the Bangley
Coffins with having never, never, never come to see them, after
promising solemnly to do so at Cannes, where they had all had
nHch a good time together, JMrs. Pipply proceeded to say thr.'.:
she didn't know whether we were driving— if not, they had room
for one, and we might arrange to meet again somewhere. ' How
good of yon ! ' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, and looked a| lier two
daughters. ' We're really obliged to you,' said ^Iv. Bangley
Coffin, and bent a gaze of strong compulsion upon his wife.
The young ladies smiled, hesitated, and looked at me. I couldn't
go. I had not even been introduced. There was an awkward
pause — the kind of pause you never get out of England — and
as the Pipplys, rather hulfed and rather in a liurry, were movini^
off, Mrs. Bangley Coffin covered their retreat, as it were, with
the unblushing statement that she was afraid we must try to
keep our little party together. And we lost the Pipplys ; where-
upon Mr. Bangley Coffin regarded his family with the air of a
disciplinarian. ' They're certain to be on a drag,' said he, ' and
no end of Pipply's clubs have tents. Why didn't one of you go ?
Not classy enough, eh ? ' Whereupon they all with one accord j
I A.V AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON -ii^
I
hoiXan to make excuse, after wliicli we walked on in a troubled
silence. It was very dusty and very steep, that narrow hill that
so many people find fortune at the top or ruin at the bottom of,
leading to the heart of Ascot. But the day had brightened, and
the people — all going uphill — were disposed to be merry, and
two one-armed sailors sat in the sun by the side of the road
singing ballads and shouting, 'Good luck to you, ladies! 'so
that my spirits gradually rose. I didn't see how I could help
enjoying myself.
' I always think it's such a frightful charge for admission to
the Grand Stand,' said ]\rrs. Bangley Coffin, as we walked up
the arboreal approach to it. 'A sovereign! Of course, they
have to do it, you know, to keep the mob outj but really, when
one thinks of it, it U too much ! '
I thought this a real kindness of ^Frs. Bangley Coffin, because
if I had not known it was so much 1 might have let ^fr. Bangley
I Coffin pay for ray ticket too.
It was about this time that Mr. Bangley Coffin disappeared,
lie launched us, as it were, upon the crowded terrace in front of
the Grand Stand, where at every turn the Misses Bangley Coffin
expected to see a man they knew. lie remained semi-detached
and clinging for about a quarter of an hour, coming up with an
jigreeable criticism upon a particular costume, darting off again
to talk to a large, calm man with an expansive checked shirt-front
and a silk hat well on the back of his head, who carried a note-
])ook. Then, once, !Mrs. Bangley Coffin addressed him, think-
ing him behind her. ' Joey, love ! ' said she. ' Joey, love ! ' said
she again, turning her head. But Joey was utterly and wholly
gone. I believe he explained afterwards that he had lost us.
* There ! ' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with incisiveness ; * now
we mmi see somebody we know ! Pet, isn't that Sir Melville
230 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
Cartns ?' It was, and Sir JNTelvillo came up in response to Mrs.
IJanglcy Coffin's ej'oglass and bow and smile, and made himself
extremely agreeable for about four minutes and a-qnarter. Then
l;e also took off his hat with much charm of manner and went
.'iVw'iy. So did a nervous little Mr. Trifugis, avIio joined ns for a
short time. He said he was on the Fitzwalters's drag, and it was
Eo uncommon full he had apprehensions about getting back.
AVhose drag were we on ? and didn't we think it was drawing-
near the halcyon hour of luncheon ?
' Nobody's,' said Mrs. Bangle}^ Coffin, I'-'utedly. ' "We came
by train this year. Joey is suffering from a fit of economy — the
result of o lire foot's behaviour at the Derby. It is about time
for luncheon.'
"Whereat ]Mr. Trifugis dropped his eyeglass and looked
absently over his left shoulder, blushing hard. Then he screwed
Lue eyeglass in again very tight, looked at us all with amiable
indefiniteness, took off his hat, and departed. 'Little beast!'
said ISIrs. Bangley Coffin, candidly ; ' there's not the slightest
reason why he couldn't have given us all luncheon at the Lyric
enclosure.'
Then I began to see why it was so necessary that we should
meet somebodv we knew — it meant sustenance. It was, as ^Ir.
Trifugis had said, (piite time for sustenance, and neither the
I^angley Coffin family nor I had had any since breakfast, and it
it had not been for that consideration, which was naturally a
serious one, I, for my part, w^ould have been delighted just tu
go round, as we seemed likely to do, by ourselves. There was
no band, as there never is in England — I suppose because Edward
the Confessor or somebody didn't like bands ; but there was
everything else that goes to give an occasion brilliance and
variety — a mingling crowd of people with conventionally
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 231
picturesque clothes and interesting manners, sunliglit, flngs, a
race-course, open boxes, an obvious thrill of excitement, a great
many novel noises. Besides, it was Ascot, and its interest was
intrinsic.
' I think we must try the drags,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin — •
and we defiled out into the crowd beyond the gates, whose dress
is not original, that surges unremuneratively between the people
who pay on the coaches and the people who pay on the Lawn.
It was more amusing outside, though less exclusive — livelier,
noisier. Men were hanging thick against the palings of the
Lawn, with expressions of deep sagacity and coloured shirts,
calling uninterruptedly, ' Two to one bar one ! ' ' Two to one
Orveito ! ' and very well dressed young gentlemen occasionally
came up and entered into respectful conference with them. We
were jostled a good deal in the elbowing multitude, audit seemed
to me to be always, as if in irony, by a man who sold ginger-
bread or boiled lobsters. We made our way through it, how-
ever, and walked slowly in the very sluidow of the drags, on top
of which people with no better appetites than we had were
ostentatiously feasting. We were all to look out for the Pibbly
hats, and we did — in vain. ' I can't imagine,' said Mrs. Bangley
Coffin to each of her daughters in turn, ' why ijoa didn't go
witli them ! ' We saw Mr. Trifugis, and noted bitterly that he
luul not been at all too late. An actress on the Lyric drag gave
us a very frank and full-flavoured criticism of our dresses, but it
was unsatisfying, except to the sensibilities.
'Shall we try behind, mamma?' asked one of the young
ladies. * Who could possibly see us behind ? ' exclaiuied Mrs.
Bangley Coffin, who was getting cross. Nevertheless, we did try
behind, and somebody did see us — several very intelligent footmen.
* la there no place,' I inquired for tlic fourth or fifth time,
232
AM AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
' where we could Jmij a little light refreshment?' Mrs. Bangley
Coffin didn't say there was not, but seemed to think it so im-
'^\-
• ALWAYS, AS IF IN IROXV, HY A MAN WHO SOLD GINGERBREAD '
probable that it was hardly v,orth our while to look. ' Nobody
lunches at Ascot, ^Miss Wick,' she said at last, with a little
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
!33
asperity, ' except on the drags or at the club enclosures. It's —
it's impossible.'
\
• AN ACTRESS ON THE LYRIC PRAO OAVK fS A VERY FRANK AND FULIi-FLAVOURED
CRITICISM or Ol'R DRESSr.S '
'Well,' I said, ' I think it's very unenterprising not to make
provision for such a large number of people. If this were in
234 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
America ' But just then we came face to face with Colonel and
Mrs. B. J. Silverthorn, of St. Paul's, Minnesota. To say that
I was glad to see these old friends in this particular emergency
is to say very little. I knew the Colonel's theory of living, and
I was quite sure that starving for six hours on an English race-
course had no place in it. I knew his generous heart, too, and
was confident that any daughter of poppa's might rely upon it
to the utmost. So, after introducing Mrs. and the Misses
Bangley Coffin, I proceeded to explain our unfortunate situation.
* Can you tell us,' I begged, * where we can get something to
eat ? '
The Colonel did not hesitate a moment. * Come right along
with me,' he said. ' It isn't just the Fifth Avenue Hotel, but
it'll do if you're hungry, and I guess you are ! ' And we all
followed him to the rather abridged seclusion of the restaurant
behind the Grand Stand. The Colonel did it all very hand-
somely— ordered champagne, and more dishes than twice as many
people could have disposed of; but the cloud that rested upon
the brows of Mrs. and the Misses Bangley Coffin did not disperse
with the comforting influence of food, and they kept a nervous
eye upon the comers and goers. I suppose they had waited too
long for their meal really to enjoy it.
We parted from Colonel and Mrs. Silverthorn almost im-
mediately afterwards — they said they wanted to go and have
another good look at the Royalties and Dukes in their own yard,
and Mrs. Bangley Coffin thought it was really our duty to stay
where Mr. Bangley Coffin might find us. So we went and sat
in a row and saw the Gold Cup won, and shortly after took an
early train for London, Mrs. Bangley Coffin declaring that she
had no heart for another sovereign for the Paddock. On the
way home she said she was sorry I had had such a dull day, and
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 235
that it was jier first and last attempt to ' screw ' Ascot. But I
had not had at all a dull day — it had been immensely interest-
ini^'-, to say nothing of the pleasure of meeting Colonel and Mrs.
►Sil'/erthorn. I quite agreed with ^Mrs. llangley Coffin, however,
that it is better to make liberal arrangements for Ascot when
you go as an Ascot person.
236 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
XXII
* T DON'T know what we were about to let ]\Iiss "Wick miss
JL the Boats,' said Mr. MafFerton one clay, over liis after-
noon-tea in Lady Torquilin's flat. I looked at Lady Torquilin,
and said I thought ^Ir. Mafferton must be mist.'iken ; I liad
never missed a boat in my life, and, besides, we liadn't been
going anywhere by boat lately. Tlie reason we had put off
our trip to llichmond live times was invariably because of
the weather. I'eter Corke happened to be there that afternoon,
too, though she didn't make much of a visit. ]\Iiss Corke
never did stay very long when ls\\\ ^Mafferton was there — he
was a person she couldn't bear. She never called him anything
but ' That.' She declared you could see hundreds of him
any afternoon in Piccadilly, all with the same hat and collar
and expression and carnation in their button-holes. She failed
to see why I should waste any portion of my valuable time in
observing Mr. IMafferton, when I had still to see ' Dolly's Chop
House,' and Guy the King-maker's tablet in Warwick Lane,
and the Boy in Panyer Alley, and was so far unimproved by
anything whatever relating to Oliver Goldsmith or Samuel
Johnson. She could not understand that a profoundly unin-
teresting person might interest you precisely on that account.
But, ' Oh you aborigine ! ' she began about the Boats, and I
presently understood another of those English descriptive termg
by which you mean something that you do not sav.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 237
Tlio discussion umletl, very happily forme, in an arrangeniont
suggested jointly by ^liss Corke and ^Ir. ^fafferton. Lady
Torquilin and I should go to Oxford to see ' the Eights.' -NFr.
jMafferton had a nephew at Pembroke, and no doubt the young
cub would be delighted to look after na. Miss Corke's younger
brother was at Jvxeter, and she would write to the dear bov jit
once that ho must be nice to us. Peter was very sorry she
couldn't come lierself — nothing would have given her greater
pleasure, she said, than to show me all I didn't know in the
Bodleian.
I suppose we have rather a large, exaggerated idea of
Oxford in America, thinkin<j about it. as it were, extcrnallv.
As a name it is so constantly before us, and the terms of
respect in which the English despatches speak of it are so
marked, that its importance in our eyes has become extremely
great. We think it a city, of course — no place could grow to
such fame without being a city — and with us the importance of
a city naturally invests itself in largo blocks of fine buildings
chiefly devoted to business, in a widely-extended and highly-
perfected telephone system, and in avenues of Queen Anne
residences with the latest modern conveniences. And Lady
Torquilin, on the way, certainly talked a great deal about ' the
High ' — which she explained to be Oxfords principal thorough-
fare— and the purchases she had at one time or another made on
it, comparing Oxford with London prices. So that I had quite
an extensive State Street or Wabash Avenue idea of ' the High.'
Both our young gentiemon friends were fractional parts of the
Eights, and were therefore unable to meet us. It had been
arranged that we should lunch with one at two, and take tea
with the other at five, but Lady Torquilin declared herself in
urgent need of something sustaining as soon as we arrived, and
238 AN AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
'Shall we go to tlie Clarendon to get it?' sukl f-Jie, ' or to
]}offin\s?'
* Wliat Is Bofiiii's ? ' I inquired. It is not safe, in English
localisms, to assume tliat you know anything.
' Boffin's is a pastry-cook's,' Lady Torquilin informed me, and
I immediately elected for Bodin's. It was something idyllic, in
these commonplace days, when Dickens has been so long dead,
that Boffin should be a pastry-cook, and that a pastry-cook
should be Boffin. Perhaps it struck me especially, because in
America ho would have been a 'confectioner,' with touio
a3sthetic change in the spelling of the original Boffin that I am
convinced could not be half so good for business. And we
walked up a long, narrow, quiet street, bent like an elbow, lined
with low-roofed little shops devoted chiefly, as I remember them,
to the sale of tennis-racquets, old prints, sausages, and gentle-
men's neckties, full of quaint gables, and here and there lapsing
into a row of elderly stone houses that had all gone to sleep
together by the pavement, leaving their worldly business to the
care of the brass-plates on their doors. Such a curious old street
we went up to Boffin's, so peaceful, nothing in it but inoffensive
boys pushing handcarts, and amiable gentlemen advanced in
years with spectacles — certainly more of these than I ever saw
together in any other place — never drowsing far from the shadow
of some serious grey pile, ivy-bearded and intent, like a vener-
able scholar — oh, a very curious old street !
' Shall we get,' said I to Lady Torquilin, ' any glimpse of the
High before we reach Boffin's ? ' Dear Lady Torquilin looked
at me sternly, as if to discover some latent insincerity. ' None
of your impertinence, miss,' said she ; ' this is the High ! '
I was more charmed and delighted than I can express, and
as Lady Torquilin fortunately remembered several things we
A IV AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 239
urgently nocdrd, niul could buy to much bettor udvatitago in
Oxford than in 'Town,' I had tho groat ])loasuro of finding out
what it was like to shop in tho High, and the othor queer littlo
streets wdiich are permitted to run — no, to creep — about the feet
of the great wise old colleges that take such kindly notice of
them. It was very nice, to my mind, that liuddling together of
pastry-cooks and gargoyles, of chapels and old china shops, of
battered mediirval saints and those little modern errand-bovs
with their handcarts — of old times and new, preponderatingly
old and respectfully new. !Much more democratic, too, than a
seat of learning would bo in America, whore almost every
college of reputation is isolated in the sea of ' grounds,' and the
only sound that falls upon the academic ear is the clatter of tho
lawn-mower or the hissing of the garden-hose. Nor shall I soon
forget the emotions with which I made a perfectly inoffensive
purchase in a small establishment of wide reputation for potty
wares, called, apparently from time immemorial, * Tho Civet
Cat' — not reproachfully, nor in a spirit of derision, but bearing
the name with dignity in painted letters.
People who know their way about Oxford will understand
how we found oi\rs to Pembroke from the High. I find that I
have forgotten. AYe stood at so many corners to look, and
Lady Torquilin bade me hurry on so often, that the streets and
the colleges, and the towers and the gardens, are all.Io3t to me in
a crowded memory that div^erges with the vagueness of enchant-
ment from Carfax and Boffin's. But at last we walked out of
the relative bustle of the highways and byways into the quietest
place I ever saw or felt, except a graveyard in the Strand — a
green square hedged in with buildings of great dignity and
solidity, and very serious mind. I felt, as we walked around it
to ask a respectable-looking man waiting about on tho other
24'J
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
bide where Mr. Sanders llorton's roomy were, as if I were in
church.
* Yes'm ! Tlii.s way'm, if //ott please,' said tlie respectable-
• I FELT AS IF I WERE lit CHURCH '
looking man. ' ]\Ir. 'Orion's rooms is on the first floor h'up,
'm'j and as Mr. Horton himself had come out on the landing to
1
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 2\\
receive us, and was presently very prettily shaking hands with
ns, we had no fnrther difliculty. Our liost had not coiisidfifd
liiniself erpial to lunching two stranj^e ladies unassisted, however,
and as ho looked a barely possible nineteen, this was not
remarkable, Lady Torquilin thought afterwards. He innnedi-
ately introduced his friend. Lord Synionds, who seemed, if aiiy-
lliing, less mature, but whoso manners were quite as nice.
Then we all sat down in ^Fr. Sanders ilorton's pretty little
loom, and watched the final evolution of luncheon on the tal)h%
iiiid talked about the view. ' Yoii have a lovelv lawn,' said I
to Mr. llorton, who responded that it wnsn't a bad <juad ; and
when J asked if the resj)ectable-looking man downstairs was the
caretaker of the college : ' Oh, nothing so swagger ! ' said lior 1
Symonds ; ' probal)ly a scout!' And the presence of a ([uad
j.ud a scout did more than all the guide-books I read up
afterwards to give me a realising sense of being in an English
•"miversity centre. We looked at Mr. Ilorton's pictures, too, and
examined, complimentarily, all his decorative effects of wood-
carving and old china, doing our duty, as is required of ladies
visiting the meiutge of a young gentleman, with enthusiasm. I
was a little disappointed, personally, in not finding the initials
of Byron or somebody cut on ^[r. Ilorton's window-sill, and dis-
tinctly shocked to hear that this part of Pembroke College had
lieen built within the memory of living man, as !Mr. Hoi'ton was
reluctantly obliged to admit. He apologised for its extreme
Modernness on the ground of its comparative comfort, bub
seemed to feel it, in a subdued way, severely, as was eminently
Droper. Among the various photographs of boat-races upon
he wall was one in which Mr. Horton pointed out ' the
Torpids,' which I could not help considering and renuirking
ipon as a curious name for a boating-crew, ' Why are they
B
2.; 2 Ay AMERICAN GIRL IN LOXDON
called that ? ' I asked ; ' they seem to be going pretty
fast;
' Oh, rather ! ' responded i\Ir. Hortoii. ' Upon my word, 1
don't know. It does seem hard lines, doesn't it ? 8ymonds.
■where did these fellows get their name ? ' But Lord Symond>
didn't know exactly either — they'd always had it, he fancied ;
and l^ady Torquilin explained that ' this young lady' — meaning
me — could never be f-atisfied with hearing that a thing was s(j
because it was so — she must always know the why and where-
fore of everything, even when there was neither why noi where-
fore; at which we all laughed and sat down to luncheon. But
I privately made up my mind to ask an explanation of the Tor-
pids from the first Oxford graduate with honours that I met, and
I did. He didn't know either. He was not a boating-man,
however; he had taken his hono ir; in (.Musics.
J —
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
243
XXIII
II Al) licanl so imicli from
English sources of the
precocity and forwardness
of very young people in
America, that I was quite
l)repared to find a com-
mendably opposite state of
things in Knghind, and I
must say that, generally
speaking, I was not dis-
appointed. Hie extent to
\vhich voung ladies and
gentlemen under twenty-
two can sit up straight
and refrain from conversa-
tion here, impressed me as
much as anything I have
seen in society. I have not observed any of this shyness in
married ladies o^ older gentlemen ; and that struck me oddly,
too, for in America it is only with advancing years that we
become conscious of our manners.
I have no doubt that, if the Eights had been in America —
where they would probably be called the Octoplets — and ]\Ir.
Sanders Horton Ii.'kI been a Harvard Sophomore, and Lord
R 2
244 ^^^^^ AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXDON
Synioiids's father had made his fortune out of a patent slioe-
lace-tag, and we liad all been enjoying ourselves over there, we
might have noticed a difference both in the appearance and the
behaviour of these young gentlemen. They would certainly
have been older for their years, and more elaborately dressed.
Their comjilexions would probjibly not have been so fresh, nor
their shoulders so broad, and the pencilling ou Mr. Hortou's
upper lip, and the delicate, fair marking on Lord Symonds's,
would assuredly have deepened into a moustache. Their manners
would not liave be».*n so negatively good as they were in Oxford,
where they struck me as expressing tin ideal, above all things, to
avoid doing those things which they ought not to do. Their
politeness would have been more effusive, and not the least bit
nervous ; though I hope neither ls\\\ Horton nor Lord Symonds
will mind my implying that in Oxford they were nervous.
People can't possibly help the way they liave been brought up,
and to mo our host's nervousness was interesting, like his
I'higlish accent, and the scout and the quad. Personally, I
liked the feeling of superinducing bash fulness in two nice boys
like those — it was novel and anuising — though I have no doubt
they were much more afraid of J^ady Torquilin than of me.
I never saw a boy, however, from twelve to twenty-three — which
strikes me as the span of boyhood in England — that wr • not
Lady Torquilin's attached slave after twenty minutes' conver-
sation with her. She did not humour them, or Hatter them, or
talk to them upon their particular subjects; she was simply
what they called 'jolly' to them, and their appreciation was
always prompt and lively. Lady Torquilin got on splendidly
with both ^fr. Sanders Horton and Lord Symonds. The only
reason why Mr. Horton's lunch was not an unqualifiedly brilliant
success was that, whenever she talked to one of our hosts, the
AN AMERICA X GIRL IN LONDON 245
other one was left for me to talk to, "which was usnallv tli^:-
tressing for both of us.
It was an extremely nice lunch, served with anxious defer-
ence by the respectable-looking little man who had come upstairs,
and nervously commanded by !^^^. Horton at one end with the
cold joint, and Lord Symonds at the other with the fowl. It
began, I remember, with homlhrn. Lady Torquilin partook of
huiitllun, so did I ; but the respectable scout did not even offer
it to the young gentlemen. I caught a rapid, inquiring glance
from Lady Torquilin. Could it be that there was not honilbm
enough ? The thought checked any utterance upon the subject,
and we finished our soup with careful indifference, while Lord
Symonds covered the awkwardness of the situation by expl tun-
ing to me demonstratively the nature of a Bump. I did not
understand Bumps then, nor did I succeed during the course of
the afternoon in picking up enough information to write intelli-
gently about them. But this was because Lord Symonds had
no houillon. Under the circumstances, it was impossible for mo
to put my mind to it.
Presently ^Ir. ITorton asked us if he might give ua some
salmon — not collectively, but individually and properly, Lady
Torquillin first ; and we said he might. He did not help Lord
Symonds, and rela'">sed himself, as it were, into an empty plate.
It was Lady Torquilin's business to inquire if the young gentle-
men were not well, or if salmon did not agree with them,
and not mine ; but while I privately agitated this matter, I
unobservantly helped myself to maijonnaine. ' I — I beg your
pardon,' said IMr. Sanders Horton, in a pink agony ; ' that's
cream ! ' So it was, waiting in a beautiful old-fashioned silver
pitcher the advent of those idylls that come after. It was a
critical moment, for it instantly flashed upon me that the
246
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
respectable pcout had forgotten the maijoniuilaCj and that I had
been the means of making Air. Si ders Horton very uncom-
fortable indeed. Onlv one thinjj
occurred to me to sav, for which
I hope I may be forgiven.
' Yes,' I returned, ' we like it
with fish in America.' At
which jMr. Horton looked in-
terested and relieved. And I
ate as much of the mixture as 1
could with a smile, though the
salmon had underofone a vinejjfar
treatment which made this diffi-
cult. ' It is in Boston, is it
not,' remarked Lord Svmonds
politely, ' that the people livo
almost entirely upon beans?'
And the conversation flowed
quite generally until the advent
of the fowl. It was a large,
well-conditioned chicken, and
when the young gentlemen,
apparently by mutual consent,
refrained from partaking of it^
the situation had reached a
desrree of unreasonableness
which was more than Lady
Torquilin could endure.
' Do you mtend to eat no-
thing ? ' she inquired, with the air of one who will accept no
prevarications.
• THE RESPECTABLE SCOUT.'
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 2.\'/
' Oh, we'd iike to, but we can't,' they replied, earnestly and
siinultaneously.
' We're still in trainin<»', you know,' Lord Synionds went on.
' Fellows have got to train pretty nnich on stodge.' And at
this juncture ]\Ir. Horton solemnly cut two slices of the cold
beef, and sent them to his friend, helping himself to the same
quantity with mathematical exactness. 1'hen, with plain bread,
and gravity which might almost be called severe, they attacked it.
Lady Torqnilin and I looked at each other rep. )achfully.
This privation struck us as needless and extreme, and it had the
uncomfortable moral effect of turning our own repast into a
liacchanalian revel. AVe frowned, we protested, we besouglit.
AVe suggested with insidious temptation that this was the last
day of the races, and that nobody would know. We commended
each particular disii in turn, in terms we thought most appetis-
ing. It was very wrong, and it had the sting which drives
wrong-doing most forcibly home to the conscience, of being
entirely futile, besides engendering the severe glances of the
respectable scout. The young gentlemen were as adanuint, if
adamant could blush. They would not be moved, and at every
fresh appeal they concentrated their attention npon their cold
beef in a manner which I thought most noble, if a trille ferocious.
At last they began to look a little stern and disapproving, and
we stopped, conscious of having trenched disrespectfully upon
an ideal of conduct. But over the final delicacy of Mr. Horton's
lunch, the first of the season. Lady Torqnilin regarded them
wistfully. ' Not even gooseberry tart ? ' said she. And I will
not say that there was no regret in the courageous rejoinder :
' Not even gooseberry tart.'
I am not pretending to write about the things that ought to
have impressed mo most, but the things that did impress mo
\'
248 Ay AMERICAN GIRL LV LONDON
most, and these wero, at ]\Ir. Saiitlers llortou's lunclieon, tlic
splendid old silver college goblets into which our host poured u>
lavish bumpers of claret-cup, the moral support of the respect-
able scout, and the character and dignity an ideal of duty m:i
possess, even in connection with cold beef. I came into severi
contact with an idiom, too, which I shall always associate witl
that occasion. Lord Symonds did not belong to Pembroke
College, and I asked him, after we had exchanged quite a good
deal of polite conversation, which one he did belong to. - ,
' How lovely these old colleges are,' I remarked, ' and so
nice and impressive and time-stained. Which one do you
attend, Lord Symonds?'
' Maudlin,' said Lord Symonds, apparently taking no notice
of my question, and objecting to the preceding sentiment.
'Do vou think so?' I said. I was not oITended. I had
made up my mind some time before never to be offended in
England until I understood things. ' I'm very sorry, but they
do strike an American that way, you know.'
Lord Symonds did not seem to grasp my meaning. ' It is
jolly old,' said he. 'Not so old as some of 'em. New, for
instance. 1' c I thought you asked my college. Maudlin, just
this side of Maudlin bridge, you know.'
' Oh ! ' I said. * And will you be kind enough to spell your
college. Lord Symonds ? I am but a simple American, over
here partly for the purpose of improving my mind.'
'Certainly. " ]\I-a-g-d-a-l-e-n,"' returned Lord Symonds,
very good-naturedly. ' Now that you speak of it, it u rather a
rum way of spelling it. Something like " Cholmondeley." Now,
how would you spell " Cholmondeley ? " *
I was glad to have his attention diverted from my mistake,
but the reputation of ' Cholmondeley ' is world-wide, and I
I
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 249
Spelled it triunipliantly. I should like to confront an American
spelling-match with ' ^.lagdalen,' though, and about eleven
other valuable orthographical specimens that I am taking
care of.
In due course we all started for the river, finding our way
1' rough quads even greyer and greener and cpiieter than i']xeter,
and finally turning into a pretty, wide, tree-bordered higlnvay,
much too well trodden to be a popular Lovers' Walk, but dustily
pleasant and shaded withal. We were almost an hour too early
for the races, as ^Ir. Ilorton and Lord Symonds wished to take
us on the river before they were obliged to join their respective
crews, and met hardly anybody except occat-ional strolling, looso-
garmented undergraduates with very various ribbons on their
round straw hats, which they took off with a kind of spasmodic
I gravity when they happened to know our friends. The tree-
5 bordered walk ended more or less abruptly at a small stream,
bordered on its hither side by a series of curious constructions
reminding one of all sorts of things, from a Greek war:^hip to a
Methodist churcl in Dakota, and wonderfully painted. These,
Mr. Ilorton explained, were the College barges, from which the
race was viewed, and he led the way to the Exeter barge.
There is a stairway to these barges, heading to the top, and !^^r.
Ilorton showed us up, to wait until ho and Lord Symonds got
out the punt.
The word 'punting' was familiar to me, signifying an
aquatic pursuit jiopular in England, but I had never even seen
a punt, and was very curious about it. I cannot say, however,
that the English punt, when our friends brought it round,
struck me as a beautiful object. Doubtless it had points of
excellence, even of grace, as compared with other punts — I do
not wish to disparage it — but I suffered from the lack of a
I
250 AN AMERICAN CIRL IN lONDON
standard to admire it by. It seemed to me an niiinterestinpf
vessel, and I did not like the way it was cut off at the ends.
The mode of propulsion, too, by which ^Ir. Horton and Lord
8ymonds got us around the river — ])()l<ing a stick into the mud
at the bottom and leaning on it — did not impr.'ss me as being
dignified enough for anybody in Society. Lord Symonds asked
me, as we sat in one end enjoying the sun — you get to like it in
England, even on the back of your neck — what I thought of
punting. I told him I thought it was immoderately safe. Jt
was the most polite thing I could think of at the spur of the
moment. I do not believe punting would ever become popular
in America. We are a light-minded people ; we like an
element of joyous risk; we are not adapted to punt.
The people were beginning to come down upon the barges
when we returned from this excursion, and it was thought best
that we should take our places. The stream was growing very
full, not only of laborious punts containing three brightly-dressed
ladies and one perspiring young man, but of all kinds of craft,
some luxuriously overshadowed with flounced awnings, under
■which young gentlemen with cigarette-attachments reposed,
protecting themselves further with Japanese paper umbrellas.
The odd part of this was that both they and their umbrellas
seemed to be taken by themselves and everybody else quite an
8ericux. This, again, would be different in America.
Mr. Horton left us with Lord Symonds, who Iiad not to
row, he explained to us, until later in the day ; and presently
we saw our host below, with the rest ot his bare-legged, mus-
cular crew, getting gingerly into the long, narrow outiigger
lying alongside. They arranged themselves with great care
and precision, and then held their oars, looking earnestly at a
little man who sat up very straight in the stern — the cox. He
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 251
was my first cox, for I liacl never seen a boat-race l)i'fore, ex-
cepting between champions, wlio do not row with coxes, and 1
was dch'glited to find how accurately lie had been described in
the articles we read about English boating — his size, his erect-
ness and alertness, and autocratic dignity. At a word from
the cox every man turned his head lialf-way round and biick
again ; then he said, in the sternest accents I had ever lieard,
' Are — you — ready ? ' and in an instant they were off.
' Where are they going?' Lady Tonpiilin asked.
' Oh, for a preliminary spin,' said Lord Symonds, 'and then
for the starting-point.'
'And when do the barges start?' I inquired, without
having given the matter any kind of consideration.
'The barges!' said Lord Symonds, mystified. 'Do you
mean these ? They don't start ; they stay liere.'
' But can we sec the race from here ? ' I asked.
' lieautifully ! They come past.'
' Do I understand. Lord Symonds, that the Oxford boat-rncj
takes place out iliere ? '
' Certainly,' said lie. * Why not ? '
'Oh, no particular reason,' I returned — 'if there is room.'
'Rather!' the young gentleman explained. 'This is Iho
noble river Isis, Miss Wick.'
' It may not be so big as the ^Mississippi, but it's worthy of
your respectful consideration, young lady,' put in J^ady Tor-
quilin. Thus admonished, I endeavoured to give the noble
river Isis my respectful consideration, but the barges occupied
so much space in it that I was still nnable to understand how
a boat-race of any importance could come between us and the
opposite bank without seriously inconveniencing somebody.
It did, however, and such was the skill displayed by the
252 yiX AMl-RICAN GIRI. IX UhXPOX
coxes ill cliJirgn tlnit noboily was Imrf. It camo off amid
demonstrations of the most extraordinary nature, tin whistles
predominatint^, on tiie opposite bank, wliere I saw a genuine
bisliop capering along with the crowd, waving his hat on Ids
stick. It came off straight and tense and arrowy, cheered to
the last stroke.
* So near it!' said Lord Symonds, after shouting ' AVell
rowed, l*embroke ! ' until he could shout no longer,
' Near what ? ' I asked.
* A bump,' said he, sadly ; ' but it was jolly well rowed ! '
and for the moment I folt that no earthly achievement could
compare with the making of bumps.
Such excitement I never saw, among the Dons on the
barges — my first Dons, too, but they differed very much; I
could not generalise about them — among their wives, who
seemed unaggressive, youngish ladies, as a rule, in rather subdued
gowns ; among the gay people down from ' Town,' among the
college men, incorrigibly uproarious ; among that considerable
body of society that adds so little to the brilliance of such an
occasion but contributes so largely to its noise. And after it
was over a number of exuberant young men on the other side
plunged into the noble river Isis and crossed it with a few well-
placed strides, and possibly two strokes. None of them were
drowned.
After that we had a joyous half-hour in the apartments, at
Exeter, of Mr. Bertie Corke, whose brown eyes had Peter's
very twinkle in them, and who became established in our affec-
tions at once upon that account. Mr. Corke was one of
the Exeter Eight, and he looked reproachfully at us when we
inadvertently stated that we had lingered to congratulate Pem-
broke.
'A OENcr::E rrsHnp;
254 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
* IVmbroko cfd a Ijuinp, you know, yesterday,' I remarked,
proud of the teclinicality.
'Yes,' rofunied Mr. Hertie Corke, ruefully, 'bumped ns.'
This was an unfortunate heginnin*?, but it did uot mar (»ur
subsequent relations ■with ^Miss Peter Corke's brother, which
were of the pleasantest description, lie told us on the way
down once more to the noble river Isis the names of all those
delightful elderly stone images that had themselves put over
the college doors centuries ago, when they were built, and ho
got almost as many interiors into half an hour as his sister
could, lie explained to us, too, how, by the rules of the Uni-
versity, he was not allowed to play marbles on the college steps,
or to wear clothes of other than an ' obfusc hue,' which was
exactly the kind of thing that Peter would tell you — and
expect you to remember. He informed us, too, that according
to the pure usage of Oxonian English he was a ' Fresher,' the
man wo had just passed being an unattached student, a
' tosher,' probably walking for what in the vulgar tongue might
bo called exercise, but here was ' ekker.' In many ways he
was like Peter, and ho objected just as much to my abuse of
the English climate.
The second race was very like the first, with more enthu-
siasm. I have a little folding card with 'TiiE Eights, !May 22
to 28, 1890,' and the names of the colleges in the order of
starting, printed in blue letters on the inside. The ' order of
finish ' from ' B. N. C to ' St. Edm. Hall ' is in :Mr. Uertio
Corke's handwriting. I'm not a sentimentalist, but I liked the
Eights, and I mean to keep this souvenir.
AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
255
XXIV
UE records of my ex-
periences ill Tionclon
would be very incom-
plete witlioiit another
cliapter devoted to
those ;Miss Peter
Corke arnuii'ed for
me. Indeed, I wonld
need tlio license of
many chapters to ex-
plain at any length
how generously Miss
f 'orke fulfilled to me the offices of guide, philosopher, and friend ;
liow she rounded out my days with counsel, and was in all of
them a personal l)lessing.
Dispensinur information was a habit which Peter Corke
incorrigibly established — one of the things she could not help.
I believe an important reason why she liked me was because I
gave her such unlimited opportunities for indulging it, and she
s[iid I simulated gratitude fairly well. For my own part, I
always liked it, whether it was at the expense of my accent or
my idioms, my manners or my morals, my social theories or my
general education, and encouraged her in it, I was pleased with
256 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
llic itloji that slie foiiiul ino interesting enough to make it worlh
wliilc, for one thing, and then it helped my understanding (A
the hidy lier.self better tlian anything else would liave done.
And many voyages and large expense might go into the balance
against an acquaintance with Peter Corke.
^liss Corke was more ardently attached to the Past than any-
body I have ever known or heard of that did not live in it. Her
interest did not demand anj' great degree of anticpiity, though
it increased in direct ratio with the centuries ; the merr^ fact
that a thing was over and done with, laid on the shelf, or getting
mossy and forgotten, was enough to secure her respectful con-
sideration. She liked old folios and prints — it was her pastime
to poke in the dust of ages ; I've seen her placidly enjoying a
graveyard — wit!', no recent interments — for Ir^fanhour at a
time. She had a fine scorn of the Present in all its forms and
phases. If I heard her speak with appreciation of anybody with
whose reputation I was unacquainted, I generally found it safe
to ask, intelligently, ' When did he die ? ' She always knew
exactly, and who attended the funeral, and what became of the
children, and whether the widow got an annuity from the
Government or not, being usually of the opinion that the widow
should have had the annuity.
Of course, it was ]Miss Corke who took me down into Fleet
Street to see where Dr. Johnson used to live. I did not iiear
ihe name of Dr. Johnson from another soul in London durinsr
the whole of my visit. ^My friend bore down through the
Strand, and past that mediaeval griffin where Temple Bar was,
that claws the air in protection of your placid Prince in a frock-
coat underneath — stopping here an instant for anathema — and
on into the crook of Fleet Street, under St. Paul «, with all the
pure delight of an enthusiastic cicerone in her face. I think
A.V //J/AAVC'J.V (7/A7. A\' /.0.\/>iLV 257
IVter loved tlio StiiMid suid l''l»><'t Streft. jilniosfc us woll as J)r.
Joliiisoii did, and slie ulwjiys wore dinn'f. dosaMnlMiits of tlu^
Beven-li'ii<:^ue boots. Tlils was soiuctimrs a little tryiii<^' for mine,
which had no |UMli(^Mve, thoiipfh, in other respects ; hut I must
not ))e led into thf statenuMit, that shoeniakin^' is n<»f seitMitilic-
nlly Jipprehendt'd in this country. I luive never yet hren nhlo
to ufet anybody to believe it.
' This,' sjiid Miss (*orke, as we etiuMyed IVoni a d.irk littlo
alley occupied by two uninu///led small boys juid a do*^ into a
diufjfy rectiui^de, where the iiOiidon liu'lit came down upon nn-
blinkinj' rows of windows in wiills of jill colours that iret tlie
worse for woir 'tliis is (MMigh Court. \)\\ .brhnson lived here
until the death of his wife, ^'ou remember th;il he had a wile,
; nd she died ? '
' I hiive not the least doubt (»l'it,' I r.-plii-d.
'!"v(^ no patience with you!' crie(l Mi>s Corhe, I'erviMitly.
' Well, when she died ho was that disconsolate, in spitt^ of his
dictionaries, that he couldn't bear it here any lonu^er, and moved
away.'
'I don't think that was remarkable,' 1 said, lookinpj round; "
to which ^Iiss C\)rke replied that it was a line place in thosjj
day'<, and Jcjhnson paid so many jiounds, shilliuLTs, jmd ])ence
rent for it every Ladv Dav. ' I am waifinLT.' she said, with
ironical resignation, 'for you to ask me whieli lioti: e.'
'Oh!' said I. 'Which house?'
'That yellowish one, at the end, idjit!' said Tei-r with
exasperation. ' Now. if you please, well go! '
I took one long and thouirhtful look at the yellowish houso
at the end, and tried to imagine the compilation of lexicons inside
its walls about the year 17 58, and turned away feeling that I
Lad done all within my personal ability for the memory of Dr.
8
258 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
Johnson. !A[iFS Corke, liowever, was not of tl'at oi»inion, * He
moved to Johnson's Court soniowluit hiter,' slio said, ' whicli
von must hn carofid to ronifMuhor was nol named from liini.
AWIl jtist fjfo tlioi'o now.'
' Ik it far ? ' I asked ; ' becjiu.sc tliere must Ije otlier cehdu'i-
1 ics '
'' YnvV r('j)caied Miss Corke, with a witlieriiiL,' accent ; ' nob
ten minutes' walk! J)o the trams run crrnji'-hrrc in Anu'rica?
There may bo otlier celebrities — London is a p^ood place for
them — ])ut therr's only ono 8amuei .lolmson.'
Wo went throujj^li various crooked wiys to Johnson's Court, |
!Miss Corke exphiinin<jf and revilinjj^ at every step. ' We lioiir^'
slic remarked with fine scorn, 'of intellif^'ent Americans who
como over here and apply themselves dili;^»'ently to learn London ! '.
And I've never met a citizen of you yet,' she went on, i<^noriuL(
\\\y threateninjj^ parasol, ' that was not (piite satisfied at seeinijf
one of Johnson's houses — houses lie Urnl in ! N^m are a nation
of tasters, ^hss Mande Wick of Chii-a^o ! ' At which J declared
myself, for the Iiomoiu- df tlu' Stars and Stri|)es, willinuf to
swallow any (juantily of Dr. Johnson, and we turned into a little
paved parallelo^ruin seven times more desolate tiian the first.
Its prevailing' idea was soot, relieved by scraps of ])lackened ivy
that twisted alont^ some of the windov,-;*ills. I once noticed
very clever ivy decorations in iro?\ upon a London balcony, and
always afterwards found some difliculty in deciding between
that and the natural ^•ine, unh^ss the wind blew. And I would
not like to commit myself about the ivy that grew in Johnson's
Court. * Dear mo ! ' said I ; ' so he lived here, too ! ' I do not
transcribe this remark because it struck mo as particularly
clever, but because it seems to mo to bo the kind of thing any-
body might iiave said without exciting indignation. But IVkr
jy AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXPOX 259
immecliately began to fulminate again. ' Yes,' slic saiil, ' lio
lived here too, miss, at No. 7, as you cl(^irt ai^pcar to care
to know. A little inlelligent, curiosity,' she contiiiuol, ap-
parently appealing to the Samuel .Johnson chimntns, ' would
be gratifying ! '
We walked around tlieso precincts several times, while ^liss
Corke told me interesting stories that; reminded me of C\>llier"s
' Mnglish Jiiterature ' at sdiool, and asked me if by any chrnuM' F
had ever heard of ]?oswell. I loved to find myself knowing
something occasionally, just to annoy ]*ett'r, and when I said
certainly, lie was the man to whom J)r. Johnson owed his rcpu-
talion, it had (Uiite the usual effect.
'We shall now go to l^olt Court,' said my friend, 'where
Sanniel spent the last of his days, surrounded by a lot of old
ladies that 1 don't see how lie ever jiut up with, and from which
he was carried to Westminster Abbey in 1781-. Hadn't you
better put that down ? '
Now J'eter Corke would never have permitted me t(» call
Dr. Johnson 'Samuel.'
I looked round Johnson's Court wilh lingering afreclinu, and
[hung back. ''I'here is something about this place,* J said,
some occult attraction, that makes me hate to leave it. i
[believe, Peter, that the I'ast, under your influence, is beginning
Ito afl'ect me properly. I dislike the thought of remaining for
iny length of time out of reach, as it were, of the memory of
Dr. Johnson.'
Pc'cr looked at me suspiciously, 'lie lived at Dolt Court
IS well,' she said.
* Nowhere between hero and there ? ' I asked. ' No friend's
'Use, for instance, where he often spent the night? Where
I that lady live who used to give him nineteen cups of tea at
■ 2
26o AX AMERICylX GIKT IX LOXP KY
a sitting? Couldn't wo pause and ri'fn'sli ourselves l)y looking'
at her portals on the way ? '
' Transatlantic import inonco,' crii'd Miss Corke, leading tlio
way out, ' is more than T can l)ear ! '
' But,' I said, still hanging ])ack, • al)out how far ?'
AVhen my dear friend gave vent to tho little scpieal with which
she received this, I know that lier feelings wei'e worked up to a
point where it was dangerous to tamper with them, sol sub-
mitted to Bolt (/ourt, walking with luimility all the way. When
we finally arrived J could see no intrinsic diflerence between this
court and the others, except that rather more — recently — current
literature had blown up from an adjacent news-stall. For a
person who changed his residence so often, Dr. Johnsons
domestic tastes must have undergone singularly little altera-
tion.
'lie went from here to AVesttuiuster Abbey, I think yoii
said,' 1 remarked, respect fid ly, to Peter.
' In 1781,' said IVtor, who is a stickler for dates.
' And has not moved s'nce ! ' I added, with some anxiety, just
to aggravate IVter, who was duly aggravated.
' Well,' I responded, ' we saw Westminster Abbey, yon
remember. And I took particular notice of the monument to
Dr. Johnson. AVe needn't go ikerc.^
'It's in St. Paul's! ' said Peter, in a mamier which woundeil
me, for if there is an unpleasant thing it is to be disbelieved.
' And which house did ]Jr. Johnson live in here ? ' I
inquired.
' Come,' said Peter, solemnly, ' and I'll show you.'
' It has been lost to posterity,' she continued, with dcpre
slon — ' burnt in 1819. But wo have the site — there ! '
' Oh ! ' I replied. ' We have the site. That is — that i-
I
AX AMEBIC AX GIRL IX LOXDOX 261
sometliing, I siijipose. But T don't find it very istiiuulating to
tlu' iiM{igin:iti<ni.'
' \o\\ liuvt'ii't ;iny ! ' remarked Miss Corke, willi velu'ineiicu ;
and I liave no donljt slie liad ivasun lo tliiidc so. As a matter of
fact, liuwever, tlie name of Samuel Johnson is not a iiousehold
word in Cliicag(j. ^Ve dont govern our letter-writing by his
Dictionary, and as to the ' Tatler ' and the ' Kambler,' it is
impossible for people living in the I'nited States to read up the
back nundjers of even their own maga/.ii/ca. ]t is true that wo
liave no excuse for not knowing ' Rasselas,' l>ut I've noticed
that at honu? liardiv anv <'f the I'jiylish classics have much
chance against liider Haggard, and now that Jiudyard Kipling
has arisen it will b(^ worse still for ehh'Hy respectable authors
like Dr. .bthnson. So that v.hile I was deej)ly interested to
know that th»^ great lexicographer had hallowed such a con-
siderable part of London with his resideiu'e, 1 must coid'ess, to
be candid, that I would have been satislieil with fewer (,f his
architectural renudns. 1 could have done, for instance, without
the site, thouyh 1 dare sav, as IV'ter savs, thev were all jjfood
I'or me.
Before I reached Lady 'i'onpulin's flat again that day, Peter
showed me tlui particular window in Wine Otlice (,'ourt where
dear little (Joldsnuth sat deploring the baililf ami the landlady
when Dr. Johnson took the ' \ icar ' awav and sold it for sixtv
pounds- -that delightful old fairy godfather whom everybody
knows so nuich better than as the author of ' IJasselas.' And
the ' Cheshire Cheese,' on the (jt her siile of the way, that (puuntesfc
of low-windowed tavi'rns, where the two sat with their friends
over the famous pudding that is still served on the same day of
the week. Here I longed in especial to go inside and inrpnre
about the pudding, and when we might come down and huvo
2(2 AX AMERICAN GIRL /.V LONDON
pome; Ijiifc IVter said it was not proper for ladies, and hurried
me on. As if any impropriety could linger about a place a
luiiidred and fifty years old!
Tlio Temple also wo saw tliat day, and (Joldsmitirs quiet,
solitary grave in the shadow of the old Knights' Church, more
interesting and lovable there, somehow, than it would be in the
crowd at Westininstt*r. ]\iiss Peter Corke was entirely delight-
ful ill the Ti'mple, whether she talked of CJoldsmith's games and
daneing over lilackstone's sedate head in llrick Court, or of
I'llizabi'th sitting on the wide platform at the end of the ^fiddle
Temple Ifall at the first performance of 'Twelfth Night,' where,
fcomewherc beneath those dusky oidc rafters, Shakespeare nuide
anotlu'r critic. Peter never talked scandal in the present tense,
on princi [)!(', but a more interesting gossip than she was of a
centuiT back I never had a cup of tea with, which we got not
BO V(>ry far from the Cock 'J'avern in Fleet Street ; and I had
never kjjown before that Mr. Pepys was a flirt.
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
263
XXV
1{. :\IAFFKim')N fivqnontly
t'xpivssi'd Ill's rc^MVt tliat al-
most imincdiiili'lv afhT my
arrival in l.ojidoii — in fact,
(.hiring' tlic tiiiu* of my dis-
ai>i)t'amiK'e from tlie Mrtro-
pole, and just as lie In'camt^
aware of mv lic'in«f with I^adv
Torqiiiliii — liis molluT and
two sisters liad \)vv\\ oljlio-cd
to «jro to llie Ivivit'r.'^oii ac-
(■•iint of one of tlie Misses
MafcrtoiTs licallli. One
aflenioou — tlie dav bcfoi'e
tliey left, I believe — Lady Torfpiilin and T, cominjjf in, found a
larije assortment of cards belonyfiiiLT to tin' familv, wliicli wi-re
to be divided between us, aj)parently. Hut, as Mr. CliarK's
Mafferton was the only one of them left in town, my aecjuaint-
ance with tlie ^fattertons had made very little progress, i>xcept,
of course, with the portly old cousin 1 have mentioned before,
who was a lord, and who staved in London throuufh the entire
session of l*arliament. 'j'his cousin and 1 became so well ac-
cjuuinted, in spite of his bein<( a lord, that we used to ask each
other conundrums. ' What dothevcall a black cat in London':''
was a favourite one of his. But I had the advantat'c of Lord
264
AA' AMF.KICAX GIRL L\ LOXDOX
Mafrerton liero, for be always forgot that he had asked the samo
conundrum the last time we met, and tliou^^ht lue tremendously
clever when I aiis\v»'red, ' Puss, puss ! ' iiut, as I have said
before, there were very fi'W parliculars in wliich this nobleinuii
^Ijratilied my inlieritfd i(h'a (»!' w hat a lord ought to he.
One of the Misses MatftTtDU the oui* who enjoyed good
liealth — had very kiu'ilv taken tlie tr<»uble to write to me from
the Iviviera anice friendly letter, saying how sorry they all were
that we did not meet befon^ they left Town, and asking me to
malvt! them a visit as soon as tiiey retiirned in June. 'J'he letter
went on to sav that they had share«l their bn^ther's anxiety
about me for some time, but felt (juite comfortable in the thought
of leaviug me so happily situated with liady Tonjuilin, an old
friend of their own, and was it not singular? Miss Mafferton
exclaimed, iu lier jioiuled handwriting, signing herself mine
eyer alfectionately, I']. I"\ Mafl'ertou. I thouLfht it was certainly
singulai'ly nice of her to write to me like that, a ju'rfect stranger;
and while I com[)osed an answer in the most cordial terms I
could, \ thought of all I had heard about the hearty hos[)itality
of the Knglish — ' when once you know them.'
When I told Afr. MafH'rton I had lieard from his sister, and
how much ])leasun^ the letter had given nu», lie blushed in the
most violent and unaccountable manner, but seemed pleased
nevertheless. It was odd to st>e ^fr. Mafferton discomposed,
and it discomposed me. I could not in the least understand
why his sister's politeness to a friend of his should embarrass
!^^r. ^lafferton, and was glad when he said he had no doubt
Kleanor and I would be great i'riends, and clianged the subject.
But it was about this time that another invitation from relativesj
of Mr. Afaflerton's living in Bi-rkshire gave me my one always- ,
ti>-be-remembered experience of the country in England. Lady I
/IX AMERICA X (i/h'f. /.y /O.V/UKV 2^$
Torquilin was invited \i')iK l>ut tin- iii\ itatli.ii was for a 'l\ios<liiy
and Weilnosday partieuliirly lull mI" inuaircnkMits tor liip.
' Coiililiit \vr w rile and say sm d imIIkt cuin.- next week,:''
I sn«»'^'<'strd.
J.ady 'J'oi'ijiiillM loukcd srVfi.-U li.niirud. ' I slioaM tliin!;
//'./!' slio itplit'd. ' Vnirrc Hot ill AiiK'iiia, cliild. I hardly
know the;;*' pt'uplc at all: niun'oN .r. it's vdii tln-y want to set*,
and not nn* in tlu'lt-ast. So I II jii t mmhI my ajtolouii-s, and tell
Mi'H. Stacv Noii'ri' an aMf-ltiMlicd Nuinii'' woniaii who L't'ts about
wondei'f'idlv I'V IhtscH'. and that she niav ••xih'cI \<iii I)V (he
train slic proposes and sec that you ddu I outstay your invita-
tion, vouni; ladv. oi' I sliall lie in a lidL!ft I ' And LatK Toriiinlin
L^'lve in«^ her clu'ek t(t kiss, and went awa\ ami wrtitc to Mrs,
Staev as she had said.
An hour t»r two liey(»nd London the parallel tracks of tho
main lino stri'lehed awav in tlie wronij' direction lor nu', ami
mv train nurd »lown them, leaviu''- nu' lor a lew minutes
undecided liow to ])roceed. The little station seemed to
liave nothinijf whatever to do witli an\thini'' hut- the main liiu'.
It sat tliere in tlio sun and culli\ated its Ihtwer-heds, and
waited lor tlie Li^' trains to come t huiitlerinL( l»y, ami had no
concern but that. Tresently, however. I oliser\('(l. standins^ all
by itself beside a row of t ulijis nndt-r a cla\ bank (ui tlu' other
side of the bridge, the most diminuti\t' thin^' in railway trans-
port I liad ever seen. It was (piite complete, euiiin'- and cab,
and lugt^age-van and all, with its ])asseimer acconnnodation pro-
perly divided into lirst, second, and third class, ami it stood
there placidly, apparently waitini;' for somebxly. And 1 followed
my luggage over the bridge with the (piiet conviction that thisi
was the train for Pinbnry, and that it was waiting for me.
2r.6 /ly AMERICAN GIRI. I\ LOXDOX
^riiore was nobody else. And aftt'r the porltT liad stowed my
effects carefully away in the van lu^ also depr»rted, leavinj^' the Piti-
liurv train in niveliar'/e. 1 sat in it foe a while and atiniired the
tulips, and wondered how soon it would rain, and fixed my veil,
and looked over the ' Daily (Jraphic' aijfain, hut, n(»thini( hap-
])ened. It occurred to me tliat possibly the little Pinbury train
had been forjifotten, and I j'ot t)ut. 'I'lien^ was no oni- on the
]>latform, but jnst outside tlie station 1 saw a rusty old eoaehman
seated on tlie box of an open landau, so [ spoke to him. ' Doe;
that train ^^o to lMid)ury?' I asked. Ib> said it did. ' Dues
it <ifo to-day?' 1 incjuircd further, lie loolci-d amused at my
JLMiorance. '()h yes, ladv,' lie rei)lii'd : 'she jjfoes evcrv «lav — -
twice. Hut she 'as to wait for two hup trains yet. She'll b '
lioff in about 'alf an liour now ! ' — this reassurln<'lv.
AVhen we did start it took us exactly six minutes to ^('t to
Vinbury, and I was sorry T had not tij^ped the enirine-drivrr and
\*<^t him to run down with me and back a^-ain while he wa'.
waitintjf. Wliatever thcv mav say to the contrarv, there ai'e few
thin«^s in England thtit plea>;e Americjins more tlian the omni-
potence of the tip.
Two of the Stacy young ladies met me on the I'inbury phil-
firm, and gave me quite the most cluinning welcome [ have
liad in England. AVith the exct^pti<jn of IV'ter Corke — and
Veter would ])e exceptional anywhere — I had nearly alway:-?
failed to reach any sympathetic relation with the young ladii:;
1 had come in contact with in London. IVrhaps this was be-
cause I did not see any of them very often or very long together,
and seldom without the presence of some middle-aged lady who A
controlled the conversation; but the occasions of my meeting
with the Loi.don girl had never suflicedto overcome the natural *i
curiosity with which slie nsually regarded me. I rejoiced when ~
wm
268 AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
I saw that it would bo different with Miss Stacy and JMiss
Dorothy Stacy, and probably with the other Misses Stacy at
home. '^^I'hey refjfanlcd me with outspoken interest, but not at
all with fear. 'i'lu'y wrre vury polite, but their politeness was
of the gay, unconscious sort, which only impresses you when you
think of it afterwards. Delightfully pretty, though lacking
that supreme inertia of expressirui that struck me so often as
the finishing touch upon London beauty, and gracefully tall,
without that impressiveness of development I luid observed xw.
town, iMiss Dorothy Stacy's personality gave nie quite a new
pleasure. Jt was invested in round pink cheeks and cleiu* grey
ej^es, among other things that made it most agreeable to look at
her; and yellow hair that wtMit rippling down her back; and
the ])erfect freshness ;ind unconsciousness of lier Ijeauty, with
her lieight and her gentle muscularity, reminded oiu' «)f an
immature goddess of ()l}nipia, if such a person could be imagined
growing up. !Miss Dorothy Stacy was sixteen jiast, and in Ji
later moment of confidence she told me that she lived in dread
of ])eing obliged to turn up her hair and wear irretrievably long
* frocks.' 1 found this unreasonable, but charming. In xVnierica
all joys are grown up, and the brief period of pinafores is one of
probation.
We drove away in .a little brown dogcart behind a little
brown pony into the i'higlish country, talking a great deal. Miss
Stacy drove, and I sat beside her, while ]\[iss Dorothy Stacy
occupied the seat in the rear when she was not alighting in the \
middle of the road to pick up the Pinbury commissions, which
did not travel well, or the pony's foot, to see if he had a stone
in it. 'J'he pony objecteil with mild viciousness to having his
foot picked up; but ^liss Dorotliy did not take his views into
account at all ; up came the foot and out came the stone. 'Jlie
yiX AMER/CAX GIIU. IX /.OX/U^X 269
nvfragp American ff'iv] would ]ia,ve driven lielplessly jdoUL^ until
i-'ie overtook n man, I tliink.
J never saw u finer quality of mercy anywhere than the Stacy
yount( ladies exhibited toward their beast. AVhen we came to
a rising bit of road Miss Dorothy invariably leaped down and
walked as well as the pony, to save him fatigue; when a slight
declivity presented itself he walked again solemnly to tlie
bottom, occasionally being led. Ife, expected this attention
always at such times, pausing at the top and looking round for
it, and when it was withheld his hind-f|uarters assumed an
aggrieved air of irresponsibility. AVlien .Miss Stacy wislnMl to
iticrease his rate of going by a decimal point, she flicked him
gently, selecting a spot where communication might be made with
his brain at least inconvenience to himself; but she never did any-
thinfj that would reallv interfere with liis eniovmeut of the drive.
Of course, Miss Stacy wanted to know what J thought of
Kngland in a large general way, but l)efore I had time to do
more than mention a few heads under wliich I had gathered my
impressions she particularised with reference to the scenei'v.
]\Iiss Stacy asked me what I thought of English scenery, with
a sweet and Ladylike confidence, including most of what we were
driving through, with a graceful flourish of her whip. She said
] might as well confess that we hadn't such nice scenery in
America, '(irander, you know -more mountains and lakes and
things,' said Miss Stacy, ' but not vi'iillij so nice, now, have
you ? ' No, I said ; unfortunately it was about the only thing
we couldn't manage to take back with us ; at which Miss Stacy
astonished me with the fact that she knew I was going to bo
a treat to her — so original — and I must bo simply craving my
tea, and it was good of me to come, and flicked the pony severely,
so that he trotted for almost half a mile without a pause.
2-0 AN AMERICAX GIRL IN LOM)ON
Ijiit 'vo rcUinii'd to llic ncut rv, lor 1 did not wLsli to be
tliouglit unapprecialivo, and \\n^ Misses Sfacy were good enough
to bo interostod in tbo points lliat I found ])ai'ticularly novel
and pleasing — ilio flowering liedges tliat leaned up against tlie
fields by the wayside, and the quantities of little birds that
chirruped in and out of thein, and the trees, all twisted round
willi ivy, and especially the rabbits, that bobljed about in the
meadows and turned up their little white tails with as much
iKi'irelo as if the world were a kitchen-garden closed to the
public. The ' ljuniii"s,' iis IMiss Dorothy Stacy called them,
were a source of continual delight to me. 1 could never refrain
from exclaiming, 'There's another!' much to the young ladies'
amusement. ' You see," explained .Miss Dorothy in apology,
' thev're uot nevr to us, the dear sweet thintjfs ! One miirht
say one has been brought up with them, one knows all their
little ways. J^ut tiny ((re loves, and it /.s" nice of you to like
them.'
The pony stopi)ed altogether on one little rise, as if he were
accustomed to it, to allow us io tidvO a side-look across the
crrev-ii^reen fields to wher(> thev lost themselves in the blue dis-
tance, in an etlbrt to climb. It was a lovely landscape, full of
pleasant thoughts, ideally still and gently conscious, '^fhere was
the glint of a river in it, white in the sun, Avitli twisting lines
of round-headed willows markinp- which wav it went : and
other trees in groups and rows threw soft shadows across the
contented fields. These trees never blocked the view ; one
could always see over and beyond them into other peaceful
stretches, with other clumps and lines, greyer and smaller as they
neared the line where the low, blue sky thickened softly into
clouds and came closer down. An occasional spire, here and
there a farmhouse, queer, old-fashioned hayricks gossiping in
AN A ME RICA X GIRL {X LOXDOX 271
tlip corners of tlio fiekls, cows, liorsep, cr(»\vs. All jis if if luid
been painted by a tenderly conscientious artist, who economised
Jn's carmines and allowed himself no caprices except, in the
tattered hedge, full of ^lay, in the foivgronnd ; all as if Nature
liad understood a woman's chief duty to be tidy and delectable,
except for this ragged liem of lier endiroidered petticoat. I
dare say it would not seem so to you ; but the country as I liad
hiiown it in America had been an expanse of glowing coloui",
diversified by a striking pattern of snake-fences, relieved by
woods that nobody had ever })lanted, and adorned by tlie bare,
commanding ])rick residences of the agricultural population.
Consequently, deliglitful as I found thiy glimpse of English
scenery, I could not combat the idea that it liad all been care-
fully and beautifully made, and was usually kept under cotton-
wool. You would understand this if you knew the important
})art played in our rural districts by the American stump.
' Isn't it lovely?' asked Miss Stacy, witli enthusiasm. Two
cows in the middle distance suddenly disappeared behind a hiiy-
rick, and for a monuMit the values of the landscape became con-
fused. kStill, 1 was able to say that it w/s lovely, and so neat — •
which opinion I was obliged to explain to ^Miss 8tacy, as I
have to you, while the brown pony took us thoughtfully on.
27'*
AV A.]//-/aCAX CINL IN LONDON
XXVI
V
"m.
i>lv<)\r: in nf (lie ^ates cf
f l;illinoff)ii Jioiisc as om^
i)ii,ulil (li'ivc into the scene f»f
a dear old dream — a dreajii
tlial one lias lialf-helieved and
lialf-douhted, and wholly
1(»V((I and dreamed wm\\\\
all one's life lonjjf. There
it si o' 1(1, jis I had alway;;
wondered if I might not
see it standin<]f in that
far day when I shonld go to
Ihio'hnid, hcliind its liioU bilck wall, in the midst of its ivies
p/id labnrnnms and t>lnis and lanre^bnshes, looking across where
its lawns dijijied into its river at soft green meadows sloping to
the Vv'est - a ])lain old s<ilid grey stone i']nglish conntry-house so
long ocenpied with tlie birthdays of other people that it had
quite foro-otten its ov\n. N'erv bi"f and verv solid, without anv
pretentiousness of ^Mansard roof, or bow window, or balcony, or
verandali ; its simple story of strength and shelter and home and
hospitality was plain to me between its wide-open gates and its
wide-open doors, and I loved it fi'om that moment.
It was the same all through — the Stacys realised the England
of my inuigiualion to me most sweetly and completely; I found
^ (
f.
AX AMIiRlCAX GIRI IX I.OXDOX 273
Hint tlieiv liiid l)eeii no ii)i.-f;il;t'. Mrs. Siany reiilisetl if.prt'ttv and
IVt'sli and lair at iltty, piiinip and niotlicrly in lu'i' bhuk cashniert^
and lace, I'ldl nf pleasant ^ivct inL>'s and I'l'sponsible in({iiirit'S. So
(lid the S(jniiv, conun^' (»u! of his stndy to ask, with cdui'teons
oKl-lashit)ned solicit luh', lu»\\ I had borne tlie fatin-iie of tlu'
journey — sncli a deli<^]itrul nM S(iiiirt', Ud't over by accident from
tlie last century, witli liis Infill-bred i)hraseoh)Lry and siniijlo
iliynity and !>'reat friendliness. So did tlu^ rest of the Stacy
daugliters, clustering round their parents ;ind their guest
and the teajiot, talking gaily \\ith tlieir rounded Knglisli
accent of all luauner of things the South Kensington
Museum, the I'inbury coiiiniissions, the prospects for tennis.
I'resently 1 found myself taken throuu'h iust such narrow cor
ridors and down just such une\])ected step.^ as I would have
hoped for, to my room, and left there. I remember how a soft
wind canu^ putling in at the little low, tiny-paiied window Hung
l)ack on its hinges, swelling out the musliu curtains and brinn--
iiig with it tho sweetest S(jund I heard in l*]ngland — a cry that was
quite new and strange, and yet came into me from the quieb
liedges of tlie nestling world outside, as J sat there bewitched
by it, with a plaintive familiarity — ' C/zrkoo ! ' . . . 'Cuckoo!'
I must have heard it and loved it yeai'S ago, when the AVicks
lived in iMigland, through the ears of niy ancestors. Then I
discovered that the room was full of a dainty scent that I had
not known before, ami traced it to multitudinous little round
llower-bunches, palest yellow and palest green, that stood about
iu everything that would hold them — fresh and pure and deli-
cious, all the tender soul of the spring in them, all the fairness
of the meadows and the love of the shy Enn-lish sun. Ah, the
(liarui of it! It is almost worth while being broimht up in
.'vhicago to come fresh to cuckojs and cowslips, and learn their
T
274 -^A' AMERICAX GIRL IX LOXDOX
sweet meaning when you are grown up and can understand It.
I mean, of course, entirely apart from the inestimable advan-
tages of a Republican form of Government, female emancipation,
and the climate of Illinois. "Wo have no cowslips in Chicago, and
no cuckoos ; and the cable cars do not seem altogether to mal:o
up for them. I couldn't lielp wi^liing, as I leaned througli my
low little window into the fragrant peace out:iide, that Nature
had taken a little more time with America.
' ^ '//'koo ! ' from the hedge again! I could not go till the
answer came from the toppling elm-boughs in the field corner,
' ' V/( koo ! ' And in another minute, if I listened, I should hear
it again.
])own below, in tlio meantime, out came two tidy little
maids in cap and apion, and began to weed and to potter about
two tidy little plots — their own little gardens anybody might
know by the solicitude and the comparisons they indulged in —
the freedom, too, with which they pulled what pleased them-
selves. It was pretty to see the little maids, and I fell to con-
jecturing such a scene In connection with the domestic duchcsy
of Chicago, but without success. Her local interest could never '
be sufficiently depended upon, for one thing. INIarguerite might
plant, and Irene might water, but Arabella Maud would cer-
tainly gather the fruits of their labour, if she kepther place loui
enough. And I doubt if the social duties of any of these ludic
would leave them time for such idvlls.
' CVc'koo ! ' The bird caught it from the piping of the very
iirst lover's very first love-dream. How well he must ha\i
listened! . . . ' (7<^c'koo ! '
I bade ]\Iis9 Dorothy Stacy come in when I lieard her knocl
and voice ; and she seemed to bring with her, in her innoceii
strength and youth and pinkness, a very fair and harmoniou: ,
AX AMERICAN GlIU. IX LOXDON
75
counterpart of the cowslips and the cuckoos. Slio came to know
if I w su't coming down to tea. ' Listen ! ' I said, ay the sweet
111.
pjffiiff
' TWO TIDY LITTLE MAIDS.'
[TV came asfain. 'I was waiLini? till he had finislicd.' It was
ijetter than no excuse at all.
T 2
276 AN AMERICAN CIRL IN LONDON
* I tliiuk I can show j'ou from here where I siis2)ect they havf
stolen a nest, lazy things!' answered ^liss Dorothy, sympatheti-
cally, and she slipped her arm round my waist as we looked oul
of the winJow together in the suspected direction. ' 'J'hen you
don't find them tiresome ? Some people do, you know.' ' No,' 1
said, 'I don't.' And then Miss Dorothy confided to me that she
was very glad; ' for, you know,' she said, ' one cuiLt like people
who find cuck(Jos tiresome,' and we concluded that we really must
go down to tea. At that point, however, I was obliged to asl;
Miss Dorothy to wait until I did a little towards improving my
appearance. I had quite forgotten, between the cuckoos and the
cowslips, that I had come up principally to wash my face.
' You met our cousin on the ship crossing the Atlantli*,
didn't you?' the third JMiss Stacy remarked, enthusiastically
over the teapot. ' llow delightfully romantic to make a— a
friend — a frieiul like iJiaf, I mean, on a ship in the middle of
the ocean ! ])idn't you always feel perfectly comfortable after-
wards, as if, no matter what happened, he would be sure to save
you ? '
' KHtij ! ' said ]\rrs. Stacy from the sofa, in a tons of lielpless
rebuke. ' Mother, darling ! ' said Kitty, ' I Jo beg your pardon I
Your tiaughter always spesd-cs first and thinks aftei'wards, doesn't
she, sweetest mother ! Ihit you must have had that feeling,'
Miss Stacy continued to me ; ' I know you had ! '
' Oh, no ! ' 1 returned. It was rather an jiwkward situation
• — I had no wish to disparage Miss Stacy's cousin's heroism,
which, nevertheless, I had not I'elied upon in the least. ' 1
don't think I thought about being drowned,' I said.
'That proves it ! ' she cried in triumph. ' Y'our confidenci^
was so perfect that it was unconscious ! Sweetest mother —
there, I won't say another word ; not another syllable, mother
.7.V AMEh'lCAX CiRf. IX /.(l\7hKV 277
mint', shall pass your claui^liter's lips! Hut oin' '/'»>■ likt> to
rliow one's self in tlio vi)^]\f, docsiri nii(>, .Miss Wick?' — and
^\vF-. >Stacv surrenilt'ivil to an iinnnlsivo voUnne of cnibracos
wliicli desccMided from boliind the sofa, v^hit'lly upon lln' Ifack (if
IitT neck.
How [)lcasant it was, that live o'clock (e.-i-di-inkini^Mn thcold-
fa^hionctl drawin^j^-rooin, with the jessamine noddin;^^ in at the
window and all the family cats <(athered upon the heartlirn<^ —
live in nundxT, with one kitten. Tla^ Stacy's cempromiso in
the perjX'tually-recui'riiiL,' jirnLlem of now kittens was to keep
only the representative of a single generation for famil}' alVec-
tion and drawing-room privih^ges. The tosIj were obscurely
brought up i]i the stables and locatetl as early as was en-
tirely humane with respectable cottagers, or darkly spoken of
as 'kitchen cats.' Tiiero liad been onlv one break in the line
of posterity that gravely licked itself on the rug, or Ijesought
small favours rubbingly with purrs -made by a certain Satanella,
who afe licr kHfevs ! and suffered banishment in consequence.
I)ut this was confided to me in undertones by the second Miss
Stacy, who begged me not to mention the matter to ])orothy.
' We don't talk about it often, for Satanella was lier cat, you
know, and she can't get over her behaving so dreadfully.'
I'kcli cat had its individual history, and to the great-great-
grandmother of them attached the thrilling tale, if I remember
rightly, of having once only escaped hanging by her own mus-
cular endurance and activity; out mme bore so dark a bbt as
covered the memory of Satanella. I'erhaps it is partly owing
to my own fondness for pussies, but ever since I made the
acquaintance of the Stacys I must confe'SS to disparaging a
family with no cats in it.
It was naturally Dorothy who took me out to see tlie
278 AN AM/:iaC.\X GIRI. IX I.OXDON
gai'ilcn — sweet, shy Dorotliy, wlio sceiiu'd ^o cninplett'ly toli.'ive
^•own ill w. i^ardcn tliat. I^ady 'rnrfiiiiliii, wlicii sIk* Lroii^'lit licr
pink cheeks uf'terwards to glathlen llio flat in (ud(>;^Mn
;^[,insi()iis, didjlKHl lier ' tlie Wild liose ' nt once. At any rale,
J)(»r()l]iy had always lived just here heside her «,'arden, and
never unywhere else, for she lold me so i;: e.\|»laining her affee-
lion for it. 1 thought of (lu' number of limes we had moved in
Chicago, and sighed.
It was not w very mcthodleal garden, Dorotliy remarked in
apology — the dear sweet Ihings mostly came up of their own
accord year after yeiir, and the oidy andntion IVter entci'taincd
towards it was to kct^}) it reasonably weeded. A turn in tin'
walk disclosed I'ebu* at the moment with a wheelbarrow — the
factotum of garden and stable, a solemn bumpkin of twenty,
with a l.'irgo red face and a demeanour of extreme lethargy.
His countenance broke into something like a deferential grin as
he passed us. 'Can yon make him understand?' I asked
Miss Dorothy. ' Oh, I should think so!' she repliinl. 'Jle is
very intelligent !' From liis appearance 1 should not have said
so. There was nothing ' sharp,' as wo say in America, about
Peter, though afterwards I heard liim whistling 'Two lovely
black eyes' with a volume of vigorous expression that made on(3
charge liim with private paradoxical sweethearting. But I was
new to the human product after many generations of the fields
and hedges.
It was a square garden, shut in from the road and the
neighbours by that high old red-brick wall. A tennis-court lav
in the middle in the sun ; the house broke into a warmly-tinted
gable, red-roofed and plastered and quaint, tliat nestled over
the little maids in the larder, I think, at one end; a tall elm
and a spreading horse-chestnut helped the laurestinus bushes to
/I A' AMERICAN C.IRI. IX lA^XDOX z:<j
Bliiit if ill from the luwiis iiiul tlieilrivc ;iii(I anv eves llial iniLilit
lint ("all upon it/ tenderly. AVe sat down upon t lie nardrn-M-at
that somebody liad l)uilt round the elm, |)(irntliy and I, and I
Idoked at the garden as one turns the pages of an old stnpy.
Itook. There were the daisies in the grass, to licgin with, all
over, by liundreds and tliousands, turning their bi'ight little
white-and-yellow faces up at nie and saying something I don't
know quite what. 1 should have had to listen a long time to Im
sure it was anything but ' Don't step on nie ! ' but I had a vagucs
feeling that every now and then one said, '(an"l you
remember?' ])orothy renuirked it was really disgraceful, so
many oftliem, and I'eter should certaiidy mow them all down
in the morning — by which her pn-tty lips gave me a keen pang.
'Oh!' I said, 'what a pity!' ' Ves,' she saiil, relentiugly,
' they <n-t! dear things, but Iht^y're very untidy. Tlie worst of
]'eter is,' she went on, with a shade of rellcction, ' that we are
obliged to keep (d liim.'
I dare say you don't tliink much of daisies in the grass —you
have always had so many. You should have been brought up
on dandeliims instead — in Chicago!
Then there were all the sweet spring English flowers grow-
ing in little companies under the warm brick wall — violets and
pansies and yellow dafll'odils, ami in one corner a tall, brave
array of anemones, red and purple and white. And against
the wall rose-bushes and an ancient fig-tree; and farther on,
all massed and tangled in its own dark-green shadows, the
ivy, pouring out its abundant heart to drape and soften the
other angle, and catch the golden rain of the laburnum that
hung over. And this English Dorothy, with her yellow hair
and young-eyed innocence, the essence and the flower of
it all.
■
(
2So AX AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXDOX
Near the stables, in our ruiualabout ramble to the kitchen-
garden, Dorothy shov.-ed me, with seriousness, a secluded corner,
holding two small mounds and two small wooden tablets. On
one the head of a spaniel wa,- carved painstakingly and painted,
with the inscription, ' Jlero Lies a Friend.' 'I'he second tablet
had no bas-relief and a briefer legend: 'Here liies Another."
' Jack,' said she, wi( h a sliade of retrospection, ' and Jingo. Jack
died in — let me see -eighteen eighty-live. Jingo two year^ .
later, in eighteen eighty-seven. 1 didn't d(j Jingo's picture,'
_Miss Dorothy went on, pensively. ' Jt wasn't really necessary,
they were so very much jilike.'
About the kitchen-gard(Mi \ remember only how rampant
the gooseberry-lnishes were, how portentous the cabbages, ami
how the whole \'egelable Kingdom combined failed to keep out
a trailing company of early pink roses that had wandered in ■
from politer regions to watch the last of the sunset across the ,
river and beyond the fields.
'I have a letter to send,' ;;uid Mi.s Dorothy, 'and as we go
to the })ost-onice you shall see Jlallington.' So we went through
the gates that closed upon this dear inner world into the wind-
ing road. Jt led us i)ast ''i1ie(»reen Lion,' amiably fo«c7i(f/(/
npon a creaking sign that swung from a yellow cottage, past a
cluster of little, houses with great brooding roofs of straw, past
the village school, in a somewhat bigger cottage, in one end
whereof the schoolmistress dwelt and looked out npon her
lavender and rue, to the post-office at the top of the hill, where
the little woman ioside, in a round frilled cap and spectacles,
and her shawl pinned tidily across her breast, sold buttons and
thread, and ' sweeties ' and ginger ale, and other things. My
eye lighted with surprise upon a row of very familiar wedge-
shaped tins, all blue and red. They contained corned beef,
A\ A.nERlCAX (7/AY. IX LOXDOX 281
and they uaint' fi'Miii Chicago. ' I know the gentleman who
jnits tliose up very well,' I said to ]\[iss Dorothy Stacy; ' ]\rr,
AV. r. Jlitt, of (Jhicago. He is a great friend of poppa's.
' Heally ! ' baid t^he, with slight embarrassment. ' Does he — does
he do it liimself? How clever of him ! '
On the way back throuLrh the villatre of Ilallim/ton we met
several stolid little girls by ones and twos and threes, and every
little girl, as wo approached, suddenly lowered lier person and
her petticoats by about six inch»>s antl In'ought it up again in a
perfectly stra' /it line, and without any change of expression
whatever. It seemed to me a singular and most atnusing
demonstration, aiul ]\liss JJorothy explained that it was a curt-
sey— a very proper mark of respect. 'But surely,' she said,
*your little cottnger girls in America curtsey to the ladies and
gentlemen tliey nu^et ! ' And Mi-;s ])orotliy found it diflicult to
understand just why the curtsey was not a popular genntlection
in America, even if we had any little cottager girls to practise
it, which J did not think we had, exactly.
l>ater on we gathered I'ound a fire, with the cats, under the
quaint old portraits of very straight-backed dead-and-gono
ladies Stacy in the drawing-room, and 1 told all 1 knew about
the Apache Indians and Niagara Falls. I think I also set the
minds of the Stacy family at rest about the curious idea that
we want to annex Canada — they had some distant relations
there, I believe, whom thev did not want to see annexed —
although it appeared that the relations had been heterodox on
the subject, and had said they wouldn't particularly mind! I
suggested that they were probably stock-raising in the North-
west out there, and found our tariff inconvenient; and the
Stacys said Yes, they were. I continued that the union they
would like to see was doubtless commercial, and not political ;
282 AX AMERICAN (URL IX LOXDOX
und the Stacys, wlicn llicy lliouii'lit of this, lu'caiiic more cheerful.
Further ou, the Scjiiirc hniidcd uv a silver candlestick at the foot
of tlie stairs with the courtliness of thi'ee generations past; and
as I went to Led by candle-light for the first time iu my life, I
'mil;!:; DuKOTJIY KXI'LAINKI) that it WAU a CUliTEEY.'
wondered whether 1 wouhl not suddenly arrive, like this, at the
end of a chapter, and find that 1 Jiad just l)een reading one of
lihoda l^roniifhton's novels. Jkit in the morning it came in at
the window with the scent of the lilacs, and I undoubtedly heard
it again — ' Cuckoo !'...' C/".'koo ! '
J.y AMr./UCAX GIRL IN LONDON 283
XXVII
'TTAVEX'T you .MMiio letters, cliild, to your Amba.'^SiuIor, or
J-L ^vllateve^ lie is, ]u>iv iu London?' asked Jiady TorquilMi
one mornin<^.
' Why, yes,' I said, ' J have. I'd forgotten about thein.
lie is quite an old friend of poppa's— in a political way ; but
poppa advised me not to lx)ther liini so long as I wasn't in any
difliculty — he must have such lots of Americans coming over
liere for the summer and fussing round every year, you know.
And I haven't been.'
'Well, you must now,' declared J^ady Torquilin, 'for I want
you to go to Court with me a fortnight from to-day. It's five
years since I've gone, and quite time ^ should put iu an appear-
ance again. Besides, the Maff'ertons wish it.'
' The ^laffertons wish it ? ' I said. ' Dear me ! I consider
that extremely kind. 1 suppose they think I would enjoy it
very much. And 1 dare snv I should.'
'Lady MafFerton and 1 talked it over yesterday,' Lady Tor-
quilin continued^ 'and we agreed that although either she or I
might present you, it would be more properly done, on account
of your Ijeing an American, by your American man's wife.
Indeed, I dare say it's obligatory. 80 we must see about it.'
And liudy Torquilin and J^ady Mafferton, with very little
assistance from nie, saw about it.
In the moment that succeeded the slight shock of the novel
:84 AX AMi:i<!CAX GIRT. 1\ I.OXDON
idea, T fHiiul a certain d'-liriuni in c iiilemplating it that I could
not explain l)y any (it'llii> tlnMu-it's 1 bad liocn brought up upon.
It took entire ] ■ ts.scssion of me — I cimld not reason it away.
Even in reading' my licnie lrt!(M's, nliicli nsually abstracted uio
altogether fov tlie time, I saw it llntlering round the corners o^
tie pages. 'What would they say,' I thought, ' if they knew
\ wjis going to be presen(((l to the Queen — tlieir daugliter,
Mamie Wick, of liliiiois?' Would they considfU' tliat 1 had coni-
pr()inis(MJ the sli-ict Iv^'puMican principles of tin' family, and
reproljale the proceeding! The idea ga\'e me a momentary con-
£cience-chilb which soon passed oil". 1io\\e\(M*, under the agreeable
recollection of [)oppa"s having once said that he considered Her
jNIajesty a very tine woman, and for his [)art he would be jiroud
to be introduced to her. After all. heing ])resented was only a
■way of being introduced to Ikm- the way they do it in Kngland.
I felt pretty sure the family princi[)les could stand that much.
Asa matter of fact, you know, \cry few AnuM-icans have any
])crsonal objection to jdyalty. And 1 dismissed the idea,
abandoning myself to the joy of preparation, which Jiady Tor-
cpiilin decreed should begin the \vy\ next day. I thought this,
though pleasurable, rather unnecessary at first. 'Dear Lady
Torquilin,' said I, in the discussion of our Court dresses, ' can't
we see about them next Aveek ? — Ave planned so many other
things for this one ! '
' Child, chikl,' returned Lady Torquilin, impressively, ' in the
coming fortnight we htive h'irch/ time ! You must know that
we don't do things by steam and electricity in tliis country,
^'ou can't go to Court, by pressing a button. We haven't u
moment to lose. And as to other arrangements, we must just
give everything up, so as to have our minds free and comfortable
till we get the whole business over.' Afterwards, about the
^A AMERICAN GIRL L\ LOXI)(>X
2^-
'• ' WUOEVEn HEARD OP ATTENDING ONE OK HKU .MA.IKS 1 v's DRAWING llOOilS
IN A riiUv-'K .MADE IN NEW \01Ui ! " '
286 AN AM ERIC AX GIRL IN I.OXDoX
seventh time I liatl my Court tlres^ tiieil on, I became con-
vinced tliat Lady Torquilin was right. You do nolhing by
steam and electricity in tliis country. I found that it took ten
days to get a pair of satin slippers made. Though, 'of course,
if yon were not qiilta so particular, miss, about that toe, or if
you 'ad come about them t<o:nicy, vre could "ave obliged von \n
less time,' the shnemal:er said. \n le; s tii.ie! A Thieago firm
would have made the slippers, gone int(^ li(piidation, had a
flearing sale, and reopened business at the old stand in less time !
I like to linger over that fortnight's excitement —its details
were so novel and so fascinating. First, the vague and the
general, the creation of two gowns for an occasion extraordiniiry,
mentioned by head ladies, in establishments where a portrait of
Her Majesty hung suggestively on the wall, almost with bated
breath. Lady Torquilin for once counselled a mild degree of
extravagance, and laughed at my ideas — though she usually
respected them about clothes — when I laid out for her inspection
three perfectly fresh New York dresses, (piite ideal in their way,
and asked her if any of i\\o\\\ would 'do.' 'You have a great
deal to learn, child ! ' she said. ' No, they won t, indeed ! Who
ever heard of attending one of Her Majesty's Drawi no-- Rooms
in a frock made in New \'ork ! T"m not saving)' you haven't very
nice taste over there, my dear, for that you have ; but it stands
to reason that your dressmakers, not having Court instructions,
can't be expected to know anything about Court trains, ilics/i't
it ? ' From wdiich there was no appeal, so that the next day or
two went in deep conferences with the head ladies aforesaid and
absorbed contemplation of resultant patterns — which Lady
Torquilin never liked to liear me call ' samples.' I was spared
the trial of deciding upon a colour combination ; being a young
lady I was to go in white, Lady Torquilin gave me to under-
AX AMF.I^/iWX u/AV. /X /.^'AV'^J.V 287
stand, by edict of the Com (■. I'>ul .^Iimild I liavo tlu^ train or
the petticoat of tlio brocade, or would T prefer a bengaliue train
with a bodice and petticoat of crrj>c (h chine? Should the train
come from the slionldor or bo ' fullml ' in at tlie waist; and
what did I really tliink myself about ostrich tips grouped down ono
side, 0-; bunches of lield llcwt-r.-; dispersed upon llif petticoat, or
just a f^iKjijc^tinii of fiilv<'r cmbi'Miili'iy cjeiiinini^' nil througli; or
perliaps ma(]i'ui(ii,-flle miijlil rimcy ;m l']nii>ri'ss o'uwu, wliieli
would bo tliorouti'lilv <j'(i<»d sIvK- — tlnn- had made three for tho
last Drawiiig-lvooni ? I liad uexcr l)een ; o wrouglit up alxnit
any dress l)efoi'(\ l'riv;ilely, 1 coinpai'ed it to I.ady Torrpiilin
with tilt' fuss that i:; uukK' abiuit a weil(lin<;'-dre>s. ' ATy deai','
slio exclaimed, candidly, ' a wi'dding-di'ess is iKjlliiinj to it; as
I dare say,' she added, roguishly pinching my cheek in a way
she had ' it won't be lovig before vou find out!' But I don't
think Lady Torquilin really knew at the time anytlung about
this.
It was not too much to say tli:if tlios;' two Court dresses —
Lady Torquilin was going in a selienii' of ])ansy-coloured velvet
and heliotrope — haunted our waking and slee[)ing liours for
quite five days. IVter Corke, di-opping in almost at the
beijinninjjf, declared it a disLTacefid wnsh^ of tinii\ with tho
whole of Clielsea a dead-leller to uie, and came again almo.it
every afternoon that week to counsel and collaborate for an
hour and a half. I may say that ]\liss Cm-ke took the matter
in hand vigorously. It was prol)ably a detail in the inqn-ove-
ment of my mind and mv manners which s:ie could not con-
scientiously overlook. 'Since you luirc the audacity to v/isli
to kiss the hand of a sovereii>'a who is none of vours,' said
she, with her usual tv.inkle, 'you'll kindly see that you do it
properly, miss!' Ho slie gave us explicit instructions as to
2?H AX AMF.R/CAX GIRL /X I.OXDOX
tlie riglit fli)ris*,, iiiul ^luwr, and lact'iiiiin, uml halrJresst'r, to
^vliirli (Acii Lady 'J'(»r(|uiliii listfiu'd \sitli rcsptvt ; ' and r/'» //'//
III'. jK'i-!<nit(lril^' sii\d slic, witli inock-st'Vt'i'i' oiiipliasis, 'to ^'o to
anyl)ody (.dst'. Tlit'so pcuplf, are dear, Ijiit yon ai'o i)erft*etly
saf'i.' with tlic'iii, and that's important, don't you think?' IVter
i'Vi'W bi'onglit oviM" a liraddnv-is ;;ht' wow licrst-lf' tlie season
Liit'oro, lO ^et tlic vVnierican t-tlt'ct, she .said, and oti'crt'd to lend
it to nic. It consisted of tliree wliitc ostrich feathers and a
breadth of Hrnssels net about a yard and a half long* hanf^ino-
down beliind, and 1 found it rather ti'yino- as an adornment.
So I tokl lier J was very nuu-h obli^*'ed, but I dicUi't consider it
becominof, and 1 t]iou<>l»t I wouhl <!o with nothinj'' on niv
liead. At which alw. screamed lu'r delin-litfnl littk' scream,
and said indeed I wouhln't, if tlie Lord Chandjcrhdn liad anv-
tlung to say in tlie matter. Ami when 1 found out j\ist licw
much the Lord (.'hand>erlain hud to sav in the matter — how hei
arran<(ed the exact length of my train and cut of my bodice,
and what I wore in my hair — the whole mulertahing, while it
grew in consequence, grew also in charm. It was interesting
in quite a novel way to come within the operation of these
arbitrary requirements connected with the person of royalty.
I liked getting ready to go to Court infinitely better than if I
had been able to do it (piite my own way, ami the Lord
Chamberlain had had nothing to do with it. I enjoyed In's
interference. This was hard to reconcile with democratic prin-
ci[)les, too. I intend to read up authorities in Anglo-American
fiction who nuiy have detdt with the situation when I get home,
to see if they shed any light u])on it, just for my own satisfac-
tion. But I think it is a good thing that the Lord Cham-
berlain's authority stops where it does. It would be simjile
tyranny if he were allowed to prescribe colours for middle-aged
/l.V AMF.RJCAX Cini. 1 \ I.OXDOX
-.o
^S9
latlif'S, '(^^y instance, and luid ('(onni.-inilt'd Lady Toniniliti to
appi-ar in yell(jw, wliidi is almost the only colonr slic can't
wcai'. As it, was, lie was very nici' iiidct'd ahoiit it, allou'innr'
'1 loiMi Tin: crinsrY iih-i-kti.t \t fiksi,
her to come in a V-sliaped bodice on ax'oiint of her predisposi-
tion to bronchitis; but she had to write and ask him very
politely indeed. He told her by return post— of course it was
u
not a priv.'ito letter, but i\ sort of circular — ^just which tlress-
makers had the V-shaped patterns tlie Queen liked best in such
cases as hers, and Lady Torquilin at once obtained them.
After that she said she had no further anxiety — there was
nothing like going straiglit to the proper sources for informa-
tion to have a comfortable mind. AVith that letter, if anything
went wrong, the Lord Chamberlain could clearly be made ]"e-
sponsiblc — and what did one want more than that?
One thing that .surprised me during that fortnight of pre-
paration was the remarkable degree of interest shown in our
undertaking by all our friends. I should h;ivo thought it an
old story in London, but it seemed just as absorbing a topic to
the ladies who came to see Lady Torquilin on lier ' day,' and
who had lived all their lives in England, as it was to me. Thev
were politely curious upon every detail ; they took another cup
of tea, and said it was really an ordeal ; they seemed to take a
sympathetic pleasure in being, as it were, in the swirl of the
tide that was carrying us forward to the Eoyal presence. Tt
the ladies had been presented themselves they gave us graphic
and varying accounts of the occasion, to which we listened with
charmed interest; if not, they brought forth stories, if anything
more thrilling, of what had happened to other people they knew
or had heaid of — the lady whose diamond necklace broke as she
bent; the lady who forgot to take the silver paper out of her
train at home, and left it in the arms of the Gentlemen of the
Court as she sailed forward; the lady who was attacked bv
violent hysteria just as she passed the Duke of Edinburgh.'
!Miss Corke's advice — though we relied upon nobody else — was
supplemented fifty times; and one lady left us at half-jMist six
in the afternoon, almost in tears, because she had failed to per-^
suade me to take a few lessons, at a guinea a lesson, fron: a
yiX AMERICAN CIRf. IX LOXDOX 291
Fivncli Ifiily wlio made a speelalfy of dchiilantc pivsentiitions.
I tliliik I should liave taken them, the occasion found mo witli
so little self-reliance, if it had not been for Lady Torquilin.
But Lady Torquilin sai'l No, certainly not, it was a silly wasto
of money, and slie could show me everythin<ir that was necessary
for all practical pui-poses as well as ISfadame Anybody. So
several mornings we had little rehearsals, Lady Torquilin and
T, after breakfast, in my room, by which I profited much. Wo
did it very simi)ly, with a towel and whatever flowers were left
over fi'om dinner the nii-ht before. T would pin the towel to
my dress behind and hold the flowers, iiiul advance from the
other end of the room to l^ady Tonpiilin, who represented
Her Majesty, and gave me her hand to kiss. I found tho
curtsey difficult at first, especially the getting up part of it,
and Lady Torquilin was obliged to give me a great deal of
practice. ' Uemendjer one thing .ubout tho Queen's hand abso-
lutely, child,' said she. ' ^'ou'|■e not, under anv circumstances
whatever, In help ii>>iirsrff up lij H ! ' And then I would be the
Queen, and Lady Torquilin, just to get into the way of it
again, would pin on the towel and carry the roses, and curtsey
to me.
u 2
XXVITT
I KNOW I shall enjoy wrlllii^' tin's cliaptcr, T t'lijoyt-il its
prospectivo contents so niucli. To lie [x'l'lrctly candid, 1
liked going to Court Letter tlian any other thing 1 did in
England, not excepting Maihnne 'i'ussaud's, or the lirefeatei-s iit
the Tower, or even ' On r Flat ' at the Strand, it did a gniit
deal to reconcile nie, practically, Avitli monai-ehical institnlioiis.
although, chiefly on poppa's account, I sliduld like it to he under-
stood that luy democratic theories iire still (uiite unsh.akiMi in
every respect.
It seems to nit', looking ]>aek uj'on it, that we began to go
very early in the morning. I ivniemher a, vision of long ^vhIt('
boxes piled up at the end of the room through the grey of dawn,
and a very shorbnap afterwards, before the maid came knocking
with Lady Torqnilin's inqidries as to how 1 had sh'pt, and did 1
remember that the hairdresj-er was coming at nine sharp? It
was a gentle knock, but it seemed to bristle with portent as I
heard it, and brought with it the swift realisation that this was
Friday at last — the Friday on which I should see Queen A^ictorin.
And yet, of course, to bo quite candid, that was only half the
excitement the knock brought ; the other half Avas that Queen
Victoria should see me, for an instant and as an individual.
There was a very gratifying flutter in that.
The hairdresser was prompt. She came just as Charlotte
was going out with the tray. Lady Torquilin having decreed
AX A}U:h'/(\l\ (//AV. /\' /.i>\ni)Y
'93
tliil wo .'shoulil tiikc (»iir moniiiio- mca] ji, i-ftirtMiinif. She was
a kind, plcasaiif, l()(|iiaciiMis Iiwirdrcshrr.
' I'lu .i^lad lo si'c yoiTNc Ik-cii {\\^\^^ lo l;d<(> a <^'n(.d lircidvfast-,
miss," .sho said, iis slic pulll'd ami ciirli'd uif. ' 'I'liat's 'alf llio
batfl(<!' >S lie was sorry lli;il slic Ii.id locmnt' fo us so early, 'huh
iiol uiilil Iwo (.'cldck, iiii.^s,di> I cxpt'cl (o l)f Inr ouo moment off
my fcof, wliat with Oiilry l.idys wlio doii'l, wisli to l)e done
till thry'iv jus( <,n'lJiiiM- inlo jhrir cjiiTiii^tros—iJK.tinrh for that T
don't Itl.imo iliem, miss, and noiiodv lould. I'm afraid you'll
find (licse k-i])|.i(s \vv\ wearing- on I lie nerves bi'fore tlio day
is out. r.ut I'll jn;l |iin llicni up so, miss and of course
you must do Jis best jtlcasrs you, but my mlr'u'c would bo,
don't let fhem down fop f/////l)udy, miss, lill you start.' But
I was not sorry the hidrdresser cauio so early. It would
have been much moro weaiing on the nerves to liavo waited
for lier.
Perhaps you will find it dlflicult to understand the interest
with which I watched my own development into a lady dressed
for Court. Even the most familiar details of costume seemed to
acrpiire a new meaning and importnice, while those of special
relevance had the charm that might arise from the minirlino- of
a very august occasion with a fancy-dress ball. AVhen I was
quite ready, it seemed to me tliat I was a different person, very
pretty, very tall, with a tendency to look backward over my
shoulder, wearing, as well as a beautiful sweeping gown, a lofty
and complete set of montirchical prejiulices, wdiichi thought be-
coming in mascpierade. J was too much fliscinated with my out-
ward self. I could have wished, for an instant, that the Declara-
tion of Independence was hanging about somewhere framed.
Then the advent of the big square wooden box from the
florist's, and the gracious wonder of white roses and grasses
2'j.\ AX AMERICAN GIRL IX I.OXPiiX
iiibicle, with littlo Liuls (lr()p[)iiig {iiid tvuii^Hit in its truiliiiL,''
ribbons — there is a great deal of the essence of ti lloyal function
in a Drawing-lloom bouquet. And tlien Lady ^'onpiilin, witli
a new graciousness and dignity, quite a long way off if 1 had not
been conscious of sluiring her state for the time. Jiady Torquilin's
appearance gave nie more ideas aljout my own than tlie pi<M'-
glass did. ' Dear me ! ' I thought, with a certain rapture, ' do
I really look anything like Hint ? '
AVe went down in the lift one at a time, with Charlotte as
train-bearer, and the other maidsfurtively admiring from the end
of the hall. Almost everybody in Cadogan IMansions seemed
to be going out at about the same time, and a small crowd had
gathered on each side of the strip of carpet that led from the
door to the carriage. It was Lady MatTerton's carriage, lent for
the occasion, and the footman and coachnuin were as impressi\e
as powder and buff and brass buttons would make them. In
addition, they wore remarkable floral designs about the size and
diape of a cabbage-leaf upon their breasts immediately under
their chins. That was another thing that could not have been
done with dignity in America.
The weather looked threatening as we drove off, precisely
at twelve o'clock, and presently it bcgjin to rain with great
industry and determination. The drops came streaming down
outside the carriage windows ; fewer people as we passed leaned
out of hansoms to look at us. Inside the j\bdlerton carriage wn
■were absurdly secure from the weather ; we surveyed our trains,
"piled up on the opposite seat, with complacency; we took no
thought even for the curl of our feathers. "We counted, as wo
drove past them to take om* place, and there were forty carriages
in line ahead of us. Then w^e stopped behind the last, in the
^ middle of a wide road, heavily bordered under the trees with
• WE WENT DOWN IN THE LIFT, ONE AT A TI.ME, WITH CHARLOTTE A3 TRAIN -UliAliLR,'
2c/, A.y AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
damp people and dripping' umbrellas -tliere for the spectacle.
All kinds of people and all kinds of umbrellas, I noticed with
interest— ladies and gentlemen, and little seamstresses, and
loafers and rjigamuffins, and apple-women, and a largo ^^ropor-
tion of your respectal/le lower middle-class. A\'^e sat in state
amongst them in the rain, being observed, and liking it. I heard
my roses approved, and the nape of my neck, Jind Lady Tor-
quilin's diamonds. I also heard it made very unpleasant for
an elderly young lady in the carriage in front of ours, whoso
appearance was not approved by a pair of candid newsboys.
Tlie policemen kept the people off, however ; they could only
approach outside a certain limit, and there they stood, or walked
np and down, huddled together in the rain, and complaining of
the clouded carriage windows. I think there came to me then,
sitting in the carriage in the warmth and pride and fragrance
and luxuriance of it all, one supreme moment of experience,
when I bent my head over my roses and looked out into the
rain — one throb of exulting pleasure that seemed to hold the
whole meaning of the thing I was doing, and to make its covet-
able nature plain. I find my thoughts centre, looking back,
upon that one moment.
It was three o'clock before we moved again. In the hours
that came between we had nothing to do but smell our flowers,
discuss the people who drove past to take places farther down
the line, congratulate ourselves upon being forty-first, and eat
tiny sandwiches done up in tissue paper, with serious regard for
the crumbs ; yet the time did not seem tit all long. ]\lr. Oddie
Pratte, who was to escort us through the palace and home again,
made an incident, dashing up in a hansom on his way to the
club to dress, but that was all. And once Lady Torquilin had
the footipan dowi; to tell him and his brother-functionary under
yix jj//;a'aw.\' u/av. /x i.oxnox
2y;
llio In"-' uiiibivllii (u pill on Ihcir rubber coats. 'Thank you.
my Jady! said the footman, ami went I)ack to the box; but
ncMtlier oftliein took aclvanta,<,^- of Ihe ])ernii,ssion. They we/e
L;-oing to Couit too, and knew what was seemly. And tho
steaDiy crowd staved on I ill the last.
2y8
AN AMERICAN CIRL IX LONDON
XXIX
KKSEXTIiV, wlion we were
not ill the least expecting-
it, llicrc cniiie u little sudden
jolt that made us look at
each other precipitately.
fia<ly Torqiiiliii was quite a>
nervous as J at this point.
' What Arrs become of
Oddic ? " she exclaimed, and
descried a red coat in ti cal)
rolling up beside us with in-
tense relief. As we passed \
through the Palace gates
the cab di.sappeared, and chaos
came again. 'Naughty boy!"
said Lady Torquilin, in bitterness of
s[)irit. ' Why, in the name of for-
tune, couldn't he have come with u.> !^
in the carriage ? ]\reii have // ' ^
nerves, my dear, none wliatever ; and
they can't understand our having
them ! ' But at that moment we
alighted, in a m«ize of directions, upon the wide, red-carpetetl
steps, and whisked as rapidly as possible through great corridor!
I
A\ AMERICAN GIRL IX LONDON
299
♦and chaos came again.'
.^oo AX AMFJUCAX GIRL LV LONDON
with knots of geutlenicii in uiiifunn in them to the cloak-room.
* Hurry, child ! ' wliisptn-ed Lady Torquilin, handing our wraps
to the white-capped maid. ' Don't let these people get ahead of
us, and keep close to me ! ' — and 1 observed the same spasmodic
haste in everybody else. With our trains over our arms we
fled after the othei'S, as rapidly as decorum would permit, through
spacious halls and rooms that lapse into a red confusion in my
recollection, leaving one of my presentation cards somewhere (ju
the way, and reaching the limit of permitted progress at last
with a strong sense of security and comfort. We found it in a
large pillared room full of regularly-curving lines of chairs,
occupied by the ladies of the forty carriages that were before us.
Every head w^ore its three white feathers and its tulle extension,
and the aggregation of plumes and lappets and gentle movements
made one in the rear think of a flock of tame pigeons nodding
and pecking — it was very ' quaint/ as Lady Torquilin said when
I pointed it out. The dresses of these ladies immediately be-
came a source of the liveliest interest to us, as ours were appa-
rently to those who sat near us. In fact, I had never seen such
undisguised curiosity of a polite kind before. But then I do
not know that I had ever been in the same room with so niany
jewels, and brocades, and rare orchids, and drooping feathers, and
patrician features before, so perhaps this is not surprising. A
few gentlemen were standing about the room, holding fans and
bouquets, leaning over the backs of the ladies' chairs, and looking
rather distraught, in very becoming costumes of black velvet
and silk stockings and shoe-buckles, and officers in uniform were
scattered through the room, looking &6 if they felt rather more
important than the men in black ; as I dare say they did, repre-
senting that most glorious and impressive British institution, the
Army, while the others were only private gentlemen, their owu
AX AMERICAN GIRL IX I.OXDOX 3or
property, and not connected with lier ^Majesty in any personal
way whatever.
' Here yon are/ .said somebody close beliind iis. ' How d'ye
do, Auntie? How d'ye do, Miss Wick? 'Pon my word, I'm
awfully sorry 1 missed yon before ; but you're all right, aren't you ?
The brute of a policeman at the gates wouldn't pass a hansom.'
It was ^fr. Oddie ]*ratte, of coui'se, looking particularly
liandsome in liis red-and-plaid uniform, holding liis helmet in
front of him in the way that people ac(pdre in the Army, and
pleased, as usual, with tlie world at large.
'Then may I ask liow you came hen', sir?' said Lady
Torqnilin, making a pretence of severity.
' Private cnMe ! ' responded ^fr. Pratte, with an assumption
of grandeur. 'Fellow drove me up as a matter of course — no
apologies ! They suspected I was somebody', I guess, coming
that way, and I gave the man liis exact fare, to deepen the im-
pression. Walked in. Nobody said anything! It's what you
call a game o' bluff, Auntie dear ! '
' A piece of downright impertinence ! ' said Lady Torquilin?
pleasantly. * It was your red coat, boy. Now, what do you
think of our gowns ? '
Wx. Pratte told us what he thought of them with great
amiability and candour. I had seen quite enough of him since
the day at Aldershot to permit and enjoy his opinion, which even
its frequent use of ' chic ' and ' rico ' did not make in any way
irreverent. This young gentleman was a connoisseur in gowns ;
he understood them very well, and we were both pleased that
lie liked ours. As we criticised and chaffed and chatted a door
opened at the farther end of the room, and all the ladies rose
precipitately and swept forward.
It was like a great shimmering wave, radiant in colour,
:,o2 A A' AMERICAN C/RL I.\ /.OXDON
breaking in a liuiulred places into tlie foam of tliose dimpling
feathers and streaming lappets, and it rushed with unanimity to
the open door, stopping there, chafing, on this side of a silk rope
and a Gentleman of the Court. We hurried on with the wave
— Lady Torquilin and ]\[r. Oddie Pratte and I — and presently
we were inextricably massed about half-way from its despairing
outer ed{?e, in an encounter of elbows which was only a little less
than furious. Everybody gathered her train over her left arm — it
made one think of the ladies of Nepaul, who wear theirs in front,
it is said - and cliing with one hand to her prodigious bouquet,
protecting her pi'uilent head-dress with the other. ' For pity's
sake, child, take care of your lappets,' exclaimed Lady Torquilin.
' Look at that ! ' I looked at ' that ' ; it was a ragged fragment
of tulle about a quarter of a yard long, dependent from the
graceful head of a young latly immediately in front of us. She
did not know of her misfortune, poor thing, but she had a
vague and undetermined pense of woe, and she turned to us
with speaking eyes. ' l"ve lost mamma,' she said, unhappily.
'Where is mamma? I miid go to mamma.' And she was not
such a very young lady either. But Lady Torquilin, in her kind-
ness of heart, said, ' 80 you shall, my dear, so you shall ! ' and
;^rr. Pratte took his aunt's ])0uquet and mine, and held them,
one in each hand, above the heads of the mob of fine-ladyhood,
rather enjoying the situation, I think, so that we could crowd
together and allow the young lady who wanted her mamma to
go and find her. Mr. Oddie Pratte took excellent care of the
bouquets, holding them aloft in that manner, and looked so
gallantly handsome doing it that other gentlemen immediately
followed his example, and turned themselves into flowery can-
delabra, with great effect upon the brilliancy of the scene.
A sudden movement among the ladies nearest the silken
AN AMERICAN CJRt. IN LONDON 303
barrier — a sudden concentration of energy that came with the
knowledge that there was progress to be made, progress to
Iloyalty ! A quick, heaving rush througli and beyond iuto
another apartment full of emptiucss and marble pillars, and wo
were once more at a standstill, liaving conquered a few places —
brought to u masterly Inactivity by anr)ther silken cord and
another Gentleman of the Court, polite but firm. In the room
bevond we could see certain fiofures uiovinii; about at their ease,
with no crush and no striiyo-le — the ludit'S ;ind <>;entlemen of the
Private Entree. AVith what loffy siqit-riority we invested them !
They seemed, for the time, to belong to some other planet, where
Eoyal beings grew and smiled at every street-corner, and to be, on
the other side of that silken barrier, an immeasurable distance off.
It was a distinct shock to hear an elderly lady beside us, done up
mainly in amethysts, recognise a cousin among them. It seemed
to be self-evident that she had no right to have a cousin there.
' I'll see you through the barrier,' said ls\v. Oddie Pratte,
' and then 111 have to leave you. I'll bolt round the other way,
and be waiting for you at the off-door. Auntie. I'd come through,
only Her jSfaj. does hate it so. Not at all nice of her, I call it,
but she can't bear the most charming of us about on these occa-
sions. AVo're not good enouoh.' A large-boned lady in front — ^
red velvet and cream — with a diminutive major in attendance,
turned to him at this, and said with unci ion, ' I am sure, Edwin,
that is not the case. I have it on excellent authority that the
Queen is itlcased when gentlemen come through. Remember,
Edwin, I will not face it alone.'
' I think you will do very well, my dear! ' Edwin responded.
* Brace up ! Ton my word, I don't thiidc I ought to go. I'll
join you at '
* If you desert me, Edwin, Z" alcall die ! ' said the bony lady,
304 yix AMr.RicAX (://:i. /x /ox/xw
in a stroiifif iindertoni' ; jind al thai iikidu'IiI Iln> ci'fiwd lu-Mkc
af^ain. Odtlie slij)})iil away, ;iii<l wr went dii cMiltaiit ly two
places, for tlio innjor liail basely and swiftly I'ullowcd Mi-. riMttc,
and liis timid spouse, in a last clutelniii^' i'\|»i>-<l nial ii-ii. liad rallcii
hopelessly ia tlic I'car.
About twenty of us, tliis time, were K-t In at. oiicc. The lasl
of the precediuo- twenty were sinwiy and sinL;ly ]>acini4' aCtfi' (Hic
another's trains round two sidi^s ol'tliis lliii-d hi^' romn towards .1
door at the farther corner. There was a most ini|ti'essi\(' silence.
Ah W;' got into file .1 felt that the su[)reine )n(tnienl wasal hand.
and it was not a coinfortahle feeliniL;'. Lady 'rorijuilin, in IVoiil
of me, put a question to a o-entlenian in a ninfonn she oiiL;'ht to
have been afraid of only that nothiiiL'' ever ierrilied Lady 'I'oi--
quilin, which made it less coml'oi'table still. 'Oh, L'lrd Mailer-
ton,' said she— I hadn't recon-uised him in my nerronsness and
his gold lace — ' How many curtseys are tliei'e to make ?'
'Nine, dear lady,' replied this peei-, with evident eujoynu'iit.
* It's the most bi'illinnt Prawintf-K'oom of tiie season. h]\('r\
Koyalty wdio could possibly attend is here. ^.'in{^, at the
least ! '
Lady Tonpnlin's reply utierly tei-rilled me. It was cond-
dential, and delivered in an undei'ton(\ but it was full of sever(>
meaning. 'I'm fidl of rheumatism," said she, 'and I shan't
do it.'
The cpiestion as to what Lady '^^ronpiilin would do, if no!
what was required of her, ros(^ vividly befoi'o me, and kept nie
company at every step of that internniudjlo round. 'Am I all
right?' she whispered over her shoulder from the other end ol
that trailing length of pansy-coloured velvet. ' JVrfectly,' I
said. But there was nobodv to tell me that I was all rio-ht — I
might have been a thing of shreds and patches. Somebody's
'it was my TUIIN.'
306 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
rosos Imd dropped ; I w;is walking on pink potals. AVliah n,
pity ! And I Imd forprotton to tako off my ji^lovo ; would it oxt^v
come nnbntloiK^d ? ITow deliberately wo were nearinjy tluit door
at the farther end ! And liow coidd I possibly have RupposiMJ
that my heart would beat like this! It was all very well to
allpw one's self a little excitement in preparation ; but when i(
came to the actual event I reminded myself that I had not had
the slightest intention of being nervous. I called all my demo-
cratic principles to my assistance — none of them would come.
' llemember, ]Mamie Wick,' said I to myself, ' you don't lielieve
in queens.' But at that moment I saw three Gentlemen of the
Household bending over, and stretching out Lady Torquilin's
train into an illimitable expanse. I looked beyond, and there,
in the midst of all her dazzling Court, stood Queen Victoria.
And Lady Torquilin was bending over her liand ! And in
another moment it would be — it was my turn ! I felt tho
touches on my own train, I heard somebody call a name I had
a vague familiarity with — ' i\Iiss ]Mamie Wick.' I was launched
at last towards that little black figure of Royalty with the Blue
Eiblion crossing her breast and the Koh-i-nor sparkling there !
JDidw't you believe in queens, Miss IMamie Wick, at that
moment ? I'm very much afraid you did.
And all that I remember after was going down very
unsteadily before her, and just daring the lightest touch of my
lips upon the gracious little hand she laid on mine. And then
not getting nearly time enough to make all of those nine curtseys
to the beautiful sparkling people that stood at the Queen's left
hand, before two more Gentlemen of the Court gathered up my
draperies from behind my feet and threw them mercifully over
my arm for mo. And one awful moment when I couldn't quite
tell whether I had backed out of all the Royal presences or not,
AN A }[ ERIC AX GIRL IX I.OXDOX
\^7
Jiinde up my mind lliafc 1 li.-ul, tli.Mi iiiini;..!.. ih, mid in n;x*"iy of
spirif, tnrnod ami Imrkod (ii/ni,, '
If, wns ovor ;.f, li.sf. 1 l,i,d kissod the Imnd of tli.^ Qu.-.mi .,f
CJre.-.t, nriffiin und Irolnnd, and—lliciv's no iiso in tnin-.^ <,,
iH'li.'vo nnyniin;,' <o tlin contruTy- L was prond of iff Lady
'Jor<|nilin nnd 1 r.-nrardod oach oiIkt in llm next room wilh pal'o
and breathless con«,'ratnlation, and (lien turned with one accord
to (~)ddie IVafcte.
' On the wliole,' said tliat yonn-^ jr,.„il,Mnan, l)landly, 'you
did ine credit! '
X 2
3o8 ylX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON
XXX
IA]\[ writ In <^ this last chapter in tlio fop IxMtli of a saloon
cabin on. Ijoard \A\q Cunard s.s. ' Etriiria,' wlucli left Liver-
pool June 25, and is now three days out. From which ifc will
b? seen th.at 1 im going home.
Nothing has happened there, you will lio glad to hear,
perhaps. IVppa and momma, and all the dear ones of ]\lis.
IVtrtheris's Christmas card, are quite in their usual state ( 1'
health. The elections are not on at present, so there is no
family dejiression in connection with poppa's political future. I
am not running away from the English climate either, whic'i
had begun, shortly before I left, to be rather agreeable. I ha\(>
been obliged to leave England on account of a ]\Iisunder-
standing.
In order that you should quite see that nobody was parti-
cularly to blame, I am afraid I shall have to be very explicit,
which is in a way disagreeable. But Lady Torquilin said the
day I came away that it would have been better if I had been
explicit sooner, and I shall certainly never postpone the duty
again. So that, although I should much prefer to let my
English experiences close happily and gloriously with going to
Court, I feel compelled to add here, in the contracted space a^
my disposal, the true story of how I went to dine with Mr.
Charles Mafferton's father and mother and brother and sisters
in Hertford Street, Mayfair.
AX AMERICAN GIRL IX LOXIHW 3-9
It occiirretl almost a.s soon ns the family returnetl from tlio
South of France, wliere they had heen all spring, you rcniemher,
fi"om considerations aflrctinw- the health oi' tliit eldest ^liss
iMaH'erton — with whom I had kept up, fi'om time to time, Ji very
pleasant correspondence. ()iu> day, about three weeks after the
Drawinuf-Uoom, when Ladv Toi'(|uilin and 1 could scarcrlv ever
rely upon an afternoon at home, we came in to liiul all the
]\faiferton cju'dsau;ain in. 'I here was 11 note, ((w>, in which JNTi'S.
.MafTerton l)ei!<>'(Ml i^ady 'ror(iuilin I0 waive ceremony and brln^-
ni'.' to dine with llu-ni the following- evening. ' You can guess,'
saidJNfrs. Matn-rlon, ' how anxious we must bi' to seelier.' There
was a postscrii)t to tlu^ invitation, which said that althougli
diarlie, as we ])robably knew, was unfortunately out of town
j'oi' a (lav or two. All's Mailei'tou hoped he would be bat k in tlie
course of the ex cuing.
' Well, my deal'," stiid Lady Tortpiilin, ' it's easily seen that I
can't go. \\itli those AV^atkins ]teoj)le coming here. Hut you
shall — ril let von off the \Vatkinses. It isn't rcallv fair to
tlic Mafferfons to keep them waiting any longer. Ill write at
once and say so. Of course," Lady Tonpiilin went on, ' under
orthnarv circumstances I shouldn't think of lettini'' von j^o out
to dinner alone, but in this ease — thei'e is sure to be oidv the
family, yt)U know — I don't think it 'natters.'
So Lady 'ronpiilin wrote, and when the time came lent mo
Charlotte to go with me ia a hansom to Hertford Strtei^ ^Lty-
fair. ' lie sure you bring me back a full and particular account
of how' they all behave, child,' said she, as slie looked me over
after my toilette was made ; ' I shall be interested to hear.'
A massive butler let me into tlu^ usual narrow, hiu-h-ceiled
Mayfair hall, richly lighted and luxurious ; the usual convenient
maid in a white cap appeared at the first landing to show the way
3(0 /i.y /!.]//■: A'/c/ix ciRL IX i.oxnnx
t.) tlic proper room for my wrap^^. xVfter Lad}' Torquilln's ex-
pression of iuterest in liow they beliavctl, I liad been wonderinj^
wlietlier the Maffertons liad any idiosyncrasies, and I did not
waste any unnecessary time in final touches before going down
to see. I like people with idiosyncrasies, and lately T had bcc^
m'owino" accustomed to those of the Enuflish nation : as a, wlioh'
they no longer struck me forcibly. I (piite anticipated sonic
fresh ones, and the opportunity of observing theju closely.
Tlu^ drawing-room seemed, as I went in to be full of .Malfcr-
■jtuis. There were iiKU'e ]\laf]'ert(»ns tliaii cliina phitcs on tlu^
Willi, than [)al ferns on the c;ir[)('t. And yet there were only the
four vounu" ladit's and their niolhci' iind father. The cU'eet was
produced, I tliink, by the gri'at similarity between the Misses
]\ratlerton. Not in actntd face or tigurc^ ; there were quite per-
ceptible differences theie. The likeness lay in an indefinable
shade of manner and behaviour, in the subdued and unobtrusive
way in which they all got up and looked at nu?i ami at their
mamma, waiting until it should be entirely proper for them to
come forward. They wert' dressed a good deal alike, in low tones
of silk, luLz'h necked, raflier wrinklino- at the shoulders, and
finished with lace frills at the throat and wrists, and they all
wore their hair parted in the middle, brushed smoothly back
over their ears, and braided neatly across and across behiiul. 1
have never been sure altout their ages — they might liave been
anything from twenty-live to forty ; but Isabella, whom they
spoke of as the youngest, seemed to me to Ije the most serious
and elderly of all.
IMrs. Mafterton was a very stout old ladv, with what is called
a fine face. She wore a good numy old-fashioned rings.^ and a
wide lace collar over her expansive black silk, and as she came
heavily forward to meet me she held out both her hands, and
312 AX AMKRICAX CIRL IX LOXDOX
beamed upon hip —not nn impulsive boiiiii, liowcvcr, ratlier a
heaiii wltli an olciiicnt of caution in if.
' Vou are very welcome, Mi.ss AN'ick. Indeed, we have l)een
lookin"' forward to this. I tlnidc von oiitjlit to \A. me yivc von
a kiss ! '
Of conrse I did let ^Frs. JNTaflcrton o-ive me a kiss — it was
impossible to rcfnse. Ibit I thonolit myself singnlarly favonred ;
it did not seem at all in accordances with the character of the
family to fall njion the neck of a stranger and embrace her by
way of welconung her to dinner. T was still fnrther of that
opinion when each of the INFisses Maflerton followed the example
of their mannna, and saluted me tenderly on the same checiv".
But I immediately put it down to be an idiosyncrasy. ' AVe
are so glad to see you at last,' said the eldest. ' Yes, indeed ! '
said the second. ' AVe began to think we never should,' said
the third. ' AVe really did ! ' said the fourth.
*Papa,' said ]\lrs. JMatterton, ' this is ]\liss Wick, of whom
we have all heard so much.' >Slie spoke very close to the ear of
an old gentleman in an arm-chair screened from the (ire, witli
one leg stretched out on a rest ; but he did not understand, and
she had to say it over again : ' iMiss Wick, of whom we have all
heard so nnich. .l\)or de^ir! he does not hear very well,' INFrs.
Mafferton added to me. ' You nuist use the speaking-trumpet,
I fear, Miss Wick.' 'Well,' said old .Afr. INfafferton, after
shaking hands with me and apologising for not rising, ' if this
is Miss Wick, I don't see why I shouldn't have a kiss too.' At
which Mrs. Mafferton and all vhe young ladies laughed and pro-
tested, 'Oh, fie, papa!' For my part I began to think this
idiosyncrasy singularly connnon to the family.
Then the eldest Miss !Mafferton put one end of a long black
speaking-trumpet into my hand, and Mr. Mafferton, seeing her
to. ' T t
liiuk of/
AX AM ERIC AX GIRL IX LOXDOX 313
do tliis, applied tlie other to his ear. 1 had nothing wliatever
to say, but, overcome witli tlie fear of seemino- nide, I was raisin^
it to my lips and thinldng liard when I frit two anxious hands
upon my arm. M)o excuse us!' exelaimt'd a ]\Jiss jSrafferton,
' but if you wouldn't mind liolding it just a little farther from
your lips, please ! A\^e are obliged to tell everyl)ody. Otherwise
the voice makes quite a distressing noise in his poor ears.' At
which every semblance of an idea left me instantlv. Yet Inmst
say something -Mr. ;>iuf!l>:-t(>n was waiting at the other end of
the tube. This was the indjecility I gave expression to.
came here in a cab ! ' I said. It was impossible to th
anything else.
'J'hat was not a very propitious beginning; and M r. :N[aflerton's
further apology for not lieing able to take jue down to dinner,
on the ground that he had to be takeu down by the butler
himself, did not help matters iu the verv least. At dinner
I sat upon I\rr. lAralVerton's I'ight, with the coiling length
of the speaking-trumpet between us. 'JMie brother came in
just before we went down— a thin young man with a ragged
beard, a curate. Of course, a curate being there, we began with
a blessing.
Then Mrs. Mafferton said, ' I hope you won't mind our not
liaving asked any one else, Miss Wick. We were selfish enough
to want you, this first evening, all to ourselves.'
It was certainly the Mafterton idiosyncrasy to be extrava-
gantly kind. I returned that nothing could have been more
delightful for me.
'Except that we think that dear naughty Lady Torquilin
should have come too!' said the youngest Miss JSrafferton. It
began to seem to me that none of these young ladies considered
themselves entitled to an opinion in the first person sincrular.
3f4 ^-y ami:ricax r,iia. ix i.oxnox
All idea appeaivd to be, as it were, a family product. '■ SIio
was very sorry/ I said.
* And so, I am sure, are we,' reiiuuked Mrs. Mafferton, gra-
ciously, from tlie otlior end of tlio tables ' It was tlirough dcs'ir
J^ady Torquilin, I believe, that you first met our son, ^liss
Wick ? '
I began to feel profoundly nncomfortable — I scarcely knew
exactly wliy. It bt'came apparent to ni(> that there was something
in the domestic atniosphei*e willi which I was out of sym[Kit]iy.
1 thought the four Miss MaHortons looked at me with too mucji
interest, and I belirvccl that the curate was purposely distracting
himself with his soup. 1 corroborated what J\Irs. ]\laHerton li;id
said rather awkwardly, and caught one ^Miss ]\rafh'rton looking
at another in a way that expressed distinct sympathy for ine.
I was quite relieved Avhen ^Frs. ]\laflerton changed the
subject by saying, ' So you are an American, j\Iiss AV'ick ? ' and
I was able to tell her something about Chicago and our methods
of railway travelling. JMrs. INfatferton was very pleasant about
Americans; she said she always found them nice, kiiul-hearted
people. The curate said, thoughtfully, crumbling his bread, tliat
we had a vast country over there.
* Francis ! ' exclaimed the ]\Iiss Mafferton wdio sat next
to liim, playfully abstracting the crumbs, ' you know that's
naughty of you ! I'm afi'aid you've come to a very nervous
familv, ]\liss AVick.'
I felt myself blushing a])ominably. The situation all at
once defined itself and became terrible. How could I tell the
Maffertons, assembled there around their dinner-table, that I
was not coming to their family !
' Burgundy, miss ?'
How could I do anything but sip my claret with immoderate
AA' AMJJUCAX ulRL IX LOiXDON
315
' EVKN riiEN, I i!i:Mi;Mm:R, he lookku a seuious vkhson.'
3i6 AX AMJ:h'Ii'AX <>!/:/. IX /.C\/>(>X
iiljs<'ir|)tlnnj Mini ■;iy Ili;il iici'voiis (liscriliTs (li.l • uni.t imr nin In
i'aiiiilit'S, or sdiihtliinu' cipi.-illy iiiilHM'ili- !
^ IJut ( 'li;il'lic"s lli'l'\i's ;irti ;is ^l|•(lll;;• as linssiMc I ' ;;iiil
aiiotlicr Miss Mallri-foii, ifprn.'iclif.illy, In lici' sl>lt'r.
We liad otiit'i' ^'I'lui-al coiiviTsat ion. and I spoke iiitn Mr.
Alaircrloii's li'iiiiipct st'vrnil limes with a ccrlain atiiowiit of
colid'ciu'i' ; l)iit I I'ciiiciiilior only tlio poinl-; w liidi slnicl< iiic ;is
(>rs[)ocial interest at tlie time. Aiuonn" them \v;is the prnjiosal
tliat, if I were willing', Mrs. .M;ill'erton should driNc me on
'J'liesday 'SV(\'k tliat would lie to-d;iy tosee;in iii\alid marrieil
sister livin_t( in JIaiiipstead \\ho Wiis most anxious to NNcKome
mo. .Ifow('<iuld I say I w;is not williiiL;' !
Then, after dimier. in the dr:i\\ inu-room. Mi-s. .MiilTerlon tnok
nu' asidt^ 'for a. lilt le chat .* and tohl me w hat a uond smu ( 'hai h-;
liad always lieen, and showcil me seNcral |)liotoiji';iphs of him ;il
earlier sta^'es, IVom the time lie wore a sash ;ind pimiliirc. \\\r\i
then, I remendier. he hiol<ed a stM•ioM^> ])ersoii.
Ai'ter which 1 had another lit! If ehatwith t w o of t he M iixs
IMafierton toii'ethel-, who e\'[»l;iincd wli.il a (ie\iited hroliier tlle_\
had always had in ("harlie. ' ^\'e '//•'■ so n'hid _\on"\e hoen kind
to him,' they said, imjMilsively. 'Of course we haxcn't seen him
yet since our return, })ut his letlei's ha\-e told us l/ml niueli." 1
tried in vain to rack my brain lor oeewsions on which 1 hail heeii
kind to Mr. (Miarles .Mallertoii, and longed lor an attack of faint-
ness or u severe headache.
' Indeed,' 1 sahl, * it was always your jjrother who was kind
to Lady Tonjuilin and to me.' At which the young ladies
smiled consciouslv, and said sonu'thing about ///*'/ being iierfectK
natural. Then, just as 1 was wondering wdiether I al)soluteIy
must wait for Charlotte to arrive in a cab to take me home as
Lady Torquiliu liad arranged, and as the third Miss ^lafferton
'Mmm
'\-^
^^"^
r.m
^i
*»y
f
h^
»■
' THE MISSES MAFFEUTON, WHO ACCOMPANIED ME, TURNED QUITE PALE.
3i8 AX A.'ifEA'/CA.V CJKL IX LONDON
wjiH tclliiirr IIH5 liow ii*)l)lt» l)iif, ]i()\v imiiitfM'cstiiif,' if. wfis; df
Francis to tnko up cxtronK' I'ifii.'ilistic viows and vow liinisolt'to
celibacy, the (loov-l)oll r.-in'r.
'TIipiv'h Charlio now!' cxcljiiinod tlio ]\Iissos Munorf"oii all
together.
'I must really go ! ' I said preciplfnfely. 'T — I promised
Lady Torqnilin to be home early ' — noting with despair by the
gold clock under glass on the mantel that- it was only a quarter
to ten — ' and the American mail goes out to-nioi'mw ~ at least, I
Ihmlx it does — and— and ^'"0(?-niglit, ]\Irs. JMallerton ! Good-
?i?V//i/, jMr. ^Maflerton ! ' J saiil it very rapidly, and although they
were all kind enough to meet my depaiture with jn'otest, I
think it was evident to them that I'or some reason or other I
really must go. The young ladies exchanged glances of under-
standing. I think their idea was that I dreaded the embarrass-
ment of meetino; Mr. Charles IMaflerton before his familv. Two
of them came upstairs with me to get my wraps, and assured
me in various indirect ways that they quite understood — it wax
awkward.
Coming down, we met ^Mr. Charles ]\[afrerton at the door of
the drawing-room. The ]\lisses IMaflerton, who accompanied me,
turned quite pale when they heard me fissure their brother that
there was not the slightest necessity that he should accompany
me home. I could not persuade him of this, however, and we
drove away together.
I am afraid I cannot possibly report tlie conversation that
took place between Mr. IMafferton and myself in the cab. Look-
ing back upon it, I find it difficult to understand clearly, as I
dare say he does if he ever thinks about it. After I had made
him see quite plainly that it was utterly, absolutely impossible,
which was not easy, he Icfb me to infer that I had been incon-
AX AMERICA.X GIRL IN LONDON 319
fiivsfent, tlioiijjflj I nni snro T could in.'ike no soir-accuf*af Icm wliiVli
would l>p more basolt'ss. JVivafclv, I tlionjriit. tlio inconsisfenrv
was Ills, and that if. was of I lie most ^dariiit^ description. I
am of opinion, with all due rrsprct to yotir I'lnr^lish rnstonis,
that if Ml*. .Mafl'ertou desired to inarrv nie, lie should liave taken
nie, to some extent, into his ermfidenee ahout it. Jfe should
iu)t have made Lady Tonjuilin the sole repository of the idea.
A siujL^le bunch of roses, or haskt^t of fruit, or l»ox of candy
addressed to nie specially, would have been enon<^!i to give my
thoughts a proper direction in the matter. 'I'hon I would have
known what to do. J3ut I alwavs seemed to make an nnavoid-
able second in Mr. ]\IafFerton's attentions, and accejited my share
of them generally with an inward compunction. And I may say,
without any malice at all, that to guess of one's own accord at
a developing sentiment within the breast of Mr. jSIatferton would
be an unlikely thing to occupy the liveliest imagination.
I'erhaps Mr. Mutlerton did m^t know how liis family had
intended to behave to me. At all events, he otlered no apology
for their conduct. I may say that the only thing of any con-
sequence that resulted from our drive was the resolution which
I am carrying out on board the s.s. ' Ktruria ' to-day.
The ladies' steward of the ' Etruria,'a little fellow with large
bhie eyes and spectacles and a drooping moustache, is very polite
and attentive. His devotion, after Mr. Maffer. n*s, seems the
embodiment of romance. I shall hesitate about tipping him.
He has just brought me some inspiring beef-tea, which accounts
for those asterisks.
The worst of it was Lady Torquilin's scolding next morning
—not that she said anything unkind, but because it gave mo the
idea that I had treated her badly too. I should bo go sorry to
320
//.\' AM URIC AX GIRL IX LOXDOX
think that I had fronted Lady Torquiliu badly. She seemed to
think that I shoidd have told her in the very beginning that I
was encfafj'ed to ls\x. Arthur
■fe"{-j^
' THE ladies' STEWAED.'
(Jreenleat* I'age, of the ^'ale
University Staff'. She seemed
to think that I should have
told everybody. 1 don't see
why, especially as we are not
to be married until Christmas,
and one never can tell what
may happen. Young ladies
do not speak of these thiugs
(juite so much in America as
you do in England, I think.
'J 'hey are not so openly known
and discussed. I must apolo-
gise to myself for bringing Mr,
Pacre in even at this stage,
but it seemed to be unavoid-
able.
I don't know at all, by tin
way, wnat Arthur will say t(
this last of ni}
English experi
ences. He ma}
not consider it n
'formative' a
he hoped tli'
others would \>y
There is on!
one thing th;.
u-
AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 321
makes the thouglit eiidurabk' for un instant — it would have been
nice to be related to the Staeys.
Just before sailinj^the purser supplied me with dear consola-
tion in the shape of a letter fi-oni Miss Peter Corke. It was a
' characteristic ' letter, as we say when we want to say a thing
easily — bewailing, advising, sternly questioning, comically repro-
bating, a little sad and deprecating by accident, then rallying to
herself again with all sorts of funny reprosiches. ' I meant to
have done so much, and I've done so little ! ' was the burden of
it, recurring often — ' I meant to have done so much, and 1 Ve
done so little ! ' Dear Peter ! She can't possibly know how
much she did do, though I'm taking my unformed mind back to
a comparatively immature civilisation, and shall probably con-
tinue to attend a church where they use spring-edged cushions
and incandescent burners. Peter's England will always be the
true England to me. I shall be able to realise it again easily
with some photographs and Hare's ' Walks in London,' though
I am afraid I have got all her delightful old moss-grown facts
and figures mixed up so that I couldn't write about them over
again without assistance as intelligently as before. And Peter
says she doesn't mind going on in my second volume, if only I
won't print it ; which is very good of her when one thinks that
the second volume will be American, and never written at
all, but only lived, very quietly, under the maples at Yale. I
hope she may be found in the last chapter of that one too.
Dear Peter 1
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